


Much Ado About Monsters

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Baby Vamp, Bronn is a better man than Claudio, Comedy, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Faerie!Margaery, Faeries - Freeform, Fairies, Fluff, Ghouls, Heavily Influenced by Much Ado About Nothing, House Stark are Werewolves, House Tully are Vampires, House Tyrell are Faeries, Human!Bronn, Human!Sandor, Jaime loves sweets, Margaery is smarter than Hero, Multi, Not a Crossover, Peak Human Physical Condition, Psychics, Romance, Sandor isn't as charming as Benedict, Sansa isn't as snarky as Beatrice, Sexy Times, Shakespeare Inspired, Shenanigans by bad guys!, This might get confusing..., Vampire!Catelyn, Vampire!Sansa, Vampires, Werewolf!Ned, Werewolves, mostly a comedy, suspense?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monsters are real, but they're not always what you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Until We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember why I started writing this fic, like what inspired me, besides the fact that I love Much Ado About Nothing. It's my favorite play by Shakespeare, so far. And I have no idea why I decided to make it supernatural as well. Anyway, hope you like it, if you don't, well, sorry.

The wonderful scent was gone, carried away on the wind. Sansa looked down at the text message again. She sighed when she saw the name. Harry.  _ Lothor wasn’t kidding when he named him Harry the Arse. _ His attempts to bond with her were growing annoying. Blood donor or not, she had to draw the line somewhere. Maybe human females fell for such dribble as “you are perfection in ivory” or “I would place you on a pedestal for all the world to see”, but Sansa hated it. Especially when he pointed out that she would have to hide her vampiric nature and be a “regular human.” No one was perfect. Her point system proved that.  _ Let Arya and Margaery mock me for it, but as long as no man scores more than ten points, no man will score with me. _ She wanted to be seen, flaws and all, and be loved anyway. The gods knew she had plenty of flaws, though only idiots saw her species as a flaw. Her friends knew, too, since they kept pointing them out. 

There it was, that scent again. She put her phone away. She was not going to lose it this time. So delicious and lovely, smelling of lemonade and cinnamon.  _ The nose knows. _ She shuffled through the crowd, the quarry soon in sight. Her eyes glowed an inhuman blue as they narrowed in. “Gotcha.”

Her steps quickened to catch up. Right ahead. A break between the buildings. Reaching out a hand, pulling the sweet smelling human into the alley.

“What the fuck?” the human said, his eyes narrowing to stare at her, then widening as she pushed him against the wall and leaned into him. They always did that. Sansa supposed she was rather striking. Long, dark reddish hair that she left loose in her off-time, bright blue eyes (piercing, according to the fishman Theon), and full pouty lips, topped off with vampire-perfect skin, like porcelain.  _ Ivory, my ass. Strong as steel, I am. _ This was the first time she had purposely gone after a human, however, so previous interactions had been business only. She had a blood donor specifically so she wouldn’t need to do this sort of thing, but instinct had kicked in once she caught this man’s scent. “Uh...can I help--”

“Shhh…” She held her finger up to his lips and breathed deep.  _ He smells so good. Intoxicating. _ She gave him her brightest smile. “Hi.” 

“Hi…” His voice was raspy and sent tingles down her spine. Another point for him. He already had three points for the initial scent.  _ So heavenly… _

“What’s your name, stud?”

“Sandor…”

“Sandor,” she purred. He was huge, wide in the shoulders, bulging muscles from action, not from just working out, reminding her of the Warrior, two more points for him.  _ He can be my Warrior. _ “Strong name for a strong guy. Want to have some fun, Sandor?” She played with the collar of his plaid flannel button up shirt. His black leather jacket was zipped up, but it couldn’t hide the green and blue pattern from her.

He looked wary. “I don’t have any money…”

She blinked in surprise, then laughed. “Oh, stud, I’m not a whore!” He blushed furiously. He was quite charmingly cute. And he made her laugh. Three more points. Half his face was scarred, burns she would guess, and she wanted to touch them, see what they felt like. He had the marks of reconstructive surgery, but the original damage must have been pretty bad to still look like this. It marked him as a survivor and she liked that. This was promising. Two more points. His hair was long, black as night, and he was attempting to cover his scars with it.  _ He’s ashamed of the scars. Don’t be, my warrior. _ It just made him more charming in her eyes. She touched his ruined side lightly, causing him to hold his breath as she caressed it. “I do want something from you,” she said in a silky voice, “but it’s not money. You game?”

“I suppose,” he said. His scent held a tinge of copper, he didn’t trust her. She supposed she could just glamour him into being a willing participant, but that didn’t sound fun. She wanted him to want her, to earn his trust. It was good that he didn’t trust her immediately. Another point in his favor.

“What can I do to get you to trust me?” She looked into his eyes.  _ Such a lovely shade of grey, like steel, or silver. Dangerously lovely. A girl could get lost in eyes like that. _ She saw fear, desire, and hope. He glanced down at her lips. She smiled. “A kiss? Would you like a kiss?” He nodded and she stood on her tiptoes. His lips were a mix of rough skin and smooth scar tissue.  _ Soft though, I could kiss him for hours. _ She smiled, thinking of all the things she could do to him if he gave her a few hours. Suddenly, she was the one with her back to the wall, the copper no longer in his scent. He had her pinned, his hands exploring under her shirt, rough and calloused skin caressing her.  _ By the gods! He’s so strong! _ She moaned and he was lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed into her core. She could feel him, hard and hot, even through his jeans and her pants. She felt a needy throb between her legs and was seriously considering letting him take her right there in the alley.  _ For a start. _ Five more points. She nuzzled his throat, the delicious scent of him was strongest at his pulse point. She didn’t need to feed today, but he was just so mouthwatering. Her pupils dilated as she could see the pump of his blood through his veins as he ground into her. One little nibble. He was so yummy. Just one little bite...her fangs descended as she lowered her mouth to his skin.  _ I can just glamour him to forget I bit him… _ One...tiny...

_ “Incoming call! Incoming call!” _

She swore as she retracted her fangs and dug her phone out of her pocket. Sandor, the silly man, let her down and attempted to leave, but she held him close and kissed him again before answering, “What do you want? It’s my free night, I'm busy, and plan to  _ stay _ busy for at least...two hours?” She looked at Sandor as she questioned their time together. He raised both his good eyebrow and the burned one, and nodded slowly, incredulously.  _ He’s so cute. _ “Maybe more.” He chuckled at that.

_ “Sorry, I know it's your night off, but we need all hands on deck. There's a rogue nest that needs to be taken care of TONIGHT. Largest we’ve seen yet. You can have tomorrow instead,” _ Robb said. _"Merry even said she'll make you some lemoncakes to help make up for it."_  


She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, gazing into the lovely steel eyes of the man in front of her. “You’re my brother and I love you, but right now I really hate you. Merry is still cool. Free tomorrow instead, stud?”

He looked a little sad about that. She couldn’t blame him for that, considering the situation in his pants, plus she didn’t  _ want _ to leave him like that, but he nodded. Accommodating. Another point. 

_ “Are you with someone right now? A man??” _ She could practically hear his eyes bugging out. This really was out of character for her. She wasn’t a lesbian, but she wasn’t that interested in the opposite sex either, so she could (sort of) understand her brother’s surprise.

“You have no say over what I do in my free time,  _ brother _ ,” she reminded him, blushing slightly. “Text me the address, I’ll be there as fast as I can.” She hung up before he could make any other potentially embarrassing comments. Wrapping her arms around Sandor, she kissed him deeply. Her phone beeped from Robb’s text. “Sorry, stud. Duty calls. If you give me your number, I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, opening her phone to the contacts and handing it to him. He looked doubtful, his scent tinged with copper again, but she sadly couldn’t do anything about it. He input his number in her phone and handed it back. Giving her the benefit of a doubt. Another point.  _ Sandor C. Well, I’ll have to work on the trust thing tomorrow night, for now… _ She kissed him again, then turned to face her phone, which she was holding at arm's length, and took a picture of the two of them. He looked wonderfully dazed, his eyes full of lust. She giggled and texted him the photo. His phone howled at the incoming message. 

“Shit, thought I fixed that…” he muttered.

“Cute text tone. Suits you.” She grinned at his blush. “The picture is a present, so you don’t forget me, stud, and now you have my number, too. I better get going, or else I’m in for an earful of a lecture. Ta ta.” She started walking farther into the alley.

“Wait!”

She turned.

“Your name…” he said.

She smiled. Most guys didn’t care to ask. Another point, the last he could win tonight. “Sansa.”  _ Twenty points total. Highest yet. _ She waved and kept walking.

As soon as she turned the corner, she checked around her.  _ Good, no one around. _ She jumped up to the fire escape that was nearby. From there, it was easy to keep jumping up to the roof of the ten-story building. She wondered if Sandor was still in the alley, or if he had left already. She shook her head. It wouldn’t do to have thoughts of her almost lover in her head as she went into the rogue nest.  _ Still, I do have tomorrow to look forward to. _ She smiled, and started running across the buildings toward the address Robb had sent her, leaping and gliding through the air. Her eyes glowed blue as excitement pumped through her veins. Her blood was up as the moonlight glinted off her now exposed fangs. She allowed herself to wonder what Sandor’s blood tasted like. He seemed like a fairly open minded guy.  _ Maybe...maybe he could accept my biggest “flaw”, my very nature. _

**********

He watched the confusing and beautiful redhead named Sansa walk away, wondering if she really would call tomorrow. She had moaned so prettily for him, had looked right at his scars and still wanted him. He wanted to believe that she would call. If not, at least she had given him her real number, and a photo of her. If she ended up not calling, which was most likely, well...he’d take himself in hand later while remembering the encounter and looking at the photo. How could a woman dressed so modestly be sexier than a lingerie model? She had been wearing a long duster-style jacket, a sweater, khakis, and sneakers, for fuck’s sake! Her figure had been a mystery until he had felt her up. Her face had been pretty, more than pretty actually, but pretty faces often held scorn and contempt, and therefore could not be trusted. He shook his head. It did no good to think too hard on it.  _ She won’t call. _

The brisk autumn air helped cool his passions. He had been ready to take her right there in the alley, a virtual stranger whose name he hadn’t known at the time, which wasn’t like him at all. His phone rang.

“Yeah?”

_ “Got a lead on a vamp nest in the outskirts of town. We’re meeting up at Hot Pie’s Diner and going from there. You in?” _ asked Bronn.  _ “Hoping to beat that other team that’s been stealing all our kills lately.” _

“Yeah, I’m in. Got nothing better to do. See you in twenty.” He hung up, looked once more down the alley she had disappeared into, and began the tedious walk to the diner, making a mental note to stop at a pharmacy to pick up some condoms.  _ Just in case she does call. After that, I’ve got some vamps to kill. _


	2. #NotAllMonsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

**_One Year Later_ **

Sandor stood in front of the council. The heads of the great human and monster houses were watching him. “Clegane, I hope you do change your mind,” Lord Stark said. “We believe you would be a great leader for the task force.”

Sandor gave the werewolf lord a grimace. “Thank you, my lord, but I am a better soldier than general. I know you will find someone else up to the task. If that is all?”

Lord Stark nodded. “You are dismissed, Clegane.” The other lords nodded as well, Arryn (bird men), Baratheon (humans), Greyjoy (fishmen), Lannister (human), Martell (reptilian men), Tully (vampires), and Tyrell (fae). He bowed low and left the council room, the doors shutting with a soft click behind him.

“What did you do this time, Clegane?” came a soft voice to his left. He turned to see the pretty redhead that haunted his dreams sitting on the bench next to the council room.

“Why, if it isn’t my dear Lady Disdain. What makes you think I did something, vamp?” he growled. He wanted to kick himself, but Sansa just gave him an icy, amused smile and brushed off his rudeness.

“Because I know you well enough, _Hound_. Let me guess, you turned down the promotion? You snarled and barked like your nickname suggests, and you turned it down.” She rose from her seat and stretched out. Her worn out, black Cannibal Star t-shirt raising just enough to expose her belly button. He averted his eyes. She must have been waiting a while. Her dark grey duster had been discarded and her sneakers were beneath the bench. She did have a habit of making herself comfortable, no matter where she was, he had noticed. She sat down to put her shoes back on.

He swallowed hard as he watched her lithe figure. _She’s a vampire. A VAMPIRE,_ he reminded himself. _They’re all liars._ The thought rang hollow though. She had never lied to him, as far as he could prove. “What do you know of it?”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Dad mentioned it. I told him you probably wouldn’t accept. Too bad, really.” She actually sounded like she was disappointed as she put her jacket back on. “But, I’m sure Bronn will be glad to keep you on his team. Makes him look better in Margaery’s eyes. Makes him look like a better leader.”

Sandor snorted. Ever since the council had formed, joining the human and supernatural worlds in unity, and his team leader had laid eyes on the flower-like faerie, he had been pursuing her relentlessly. The faerie was playing hard to get, but it was clear she was interested in the human. It was also clear that having Sandor around accentuated Bronn’s good points. He was charming, where Sandor was coarse. He was optimistic, where Sandor was pessimistic. He was whole, where Sandor was scarred, broken. Of course he made Bronn look better.

“You’re thinking bad thoughts again, aren’t you? How original. You’d think you’d run out of insults for yourself eventually. May I add a few? Or maybe just try, since you have cornered the market,” she asked with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

He raised his good eyebrow. “Have at it then.” Every so often she would attempt to insult him with inane observations of him. They were generally more amusing that insulting, not that he'd ever let her know.

“You’re too short for a giant, and should really eat more greens if you’re to ever reach your full height,” she said, examining her nails. “Shorty Clegane.”

He refused to smile at that. No matter how funny he found it.

“No? Alright, then. Your countenance is too cheerful. You must really tone it down. Everyone around you thinks you must be half sprite with the way you chitter and chatter.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, “Chatterbox Clegane.”

He turned his head away, hiding the twitch of his burnt mouth that she would know was laughter. He let out a dramatic sigh of boredom.

“Still nothing? Fine. Last one, you dress too much like a peacock. Bright colors that blind anyone who sees you and shows you to be the worst show off in the entire coalition.” She had gotten close to him and was peering up at him. “Pretty Bird Clegane.” She tilted her head and said it the way a parrot would, when asking for compliments.

He had to bite his tongue to keep her from seeing his amusement. She sighed in definite disappointment, having failed yet again to get a rise out of him.

“Surprised you’re even here,” he mumbled. She was often out on assignment, her team was the busiest of all, though her team leader was the one who called the shots and requested a heavier caseload.

“I requested some time. Merry’s been asking me to take some time off to help her plan her sister's baby shower. It'll be a nice change of pace from work. Just got back from busting up a succubus/incubus brothel ring. Those poor people, being forced to collect souls for their master. They were being drained of their life forces as well.” She shook her head.

Contrary to popular belief, most succubi and incubi did not eat souls, they ate the affection a person had for them, and if they did it right, they could end up with a neverending feast. However, if enslaved, they could be made to collect souls for those that _did_ eat them. Sandor wanted to smile. She always had a soft spot for people who were forced to do things against their will, who were thought of as property instead of people.

“Anyway, I just came by to see how Dad’s proposal played out. See you around, Clegane.” She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. He watched her walk away, her hips swaying enticingly. It had been a year since he had first met her, first discovered that there were “good” monsters and bad monsters, and that the woman he had nearly fucked in an alley was a supposedly good vampire. One that went after bad monsters that endangered humans. He had a few choice words for her that night, words that had transformed her happy expression at seeing him again into a cold, ice queen mask. She hadn’t called him the next night as promised, but after his reaction to her, he really hadn’t expected that she would. He had stared at his phone for nearly an hour that night, wondering if he should make the first move, apologize for his reaction, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. She’s a vampire. She’s a liar. _That's not true and you know it._ It had been a year, it was too late for such apologies. He had had a chance with her and now it was gone. He needed to get over it. He told himself that every time he saw her, every time he was reminded of her, every time he saw Harry Hardyng and wanted to punch that smug bastard's face in.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked in the opposite direction towards Bronn’s office.

**********

Bronn stared at the invitation in his hand. It had been sitting on the top of his inbox when he entered his sparse office. He had been expecting it for the past week. _This is it. This is my chance! On this night, Margaery Tyrell, I will ask you to marry me!_ He couldn’t get rid of the grin on his face, something his friend and second in command commented on.

“You look like you have a two-dragon whore stuck to your cock. What’s up?” Sandor did have a way with words, Bronn noted. Not necessarily a _good_ way, but a way.

 _“We_ have been invited to the council’s masquerade ball. The entire team. The only team of the ten currently active, since we have the second highest rating and the other team is already invited for other reasons. It’s a huge honor.” Bronn was beaming.

Sandor just snorted. “Figures the council would rather have a fucking _dance_ than let us do our work.”

Bronn rolled his eyes. Sandor held little love for the council and their “fucking dumbass wisdom”, as he would often say. His words only failed in their mockery when a certain council favorite was around. He still mocked them and her, but they were empty and less stinging than his usual comments. Bronn wondered about Sandor’s relationship with Sansa Stark and he had his suspicions, but never asked about it. It really wasn’t any of his business, now was it, and it didn’t interfere with Sandor’s concentration in the field, but he was curious...

“Hey, we need a break every now and then. All work and no play makes Bronn a sad boy,” he said with an exaggerated frown. “This masquerade is also in honor of the Great Reveal. A year ago on Saturday, we officially became the Human-Monster Coalition. Besides, there’ll be loads of pretty girls to dance with. Human and non-human alike.”

“You are only interested in one girl. A faerie girl.” Sandor raised his good eyebrow, “Don’t make it seem like you’re pushing for this for the _team._ Be honest about your intentions.”

“Like you?” Bronn said mockingly. Sandor just stared at him, daring him to comment further. “Anyway, I _do_ think it would be good for team morale. It also _happens_ to coincide with my pursuit of the Lady Margaery. So sue me,” he said shrugging. “In two days, we’re going to this party. You’re dressing up, and you will dance with at least one girl, monster or human. I will get the lovely faerie to dance with me, among other things.” He thought about the ring sitting in his desk. Jaime Lannister and his wife Brienne had agreed to talk to Lord Tyrell on his behalf, per faerie tradition. “End of story.”

Sandor shook his head. “Fine, whatever.”

**********

Margaery flit across the room, tossing clothes this way and that as Sansa sat on the bed, watching her. “So, I think Bronn might ask my dad for permission to marry me tonight!” she was saying. Sansa ducked to dodge a goldish-red sweater that came flying her way. Margaery was sweet, but a little flighty. “I just _have_ to look like a queen for this dance. Or at least bangable. What are you dressing up as?”

“Don’t know yet. Arya’s dressing up as an old school knight again, Pod’s going as her squire. I guess I could do the same and also be a knight, but I feel like I’ve done that too many times before,” Sansa said, flipping through the photos in her phone. There was a particularly good one of her, Arya and their goodsister Merry. She made a mental note to get that one printed up to frame and hang in her brother’s office. She stopped on the one of her and Sandor, mere hours before the council made its presence known to the world, when she had foolishly believed there might be something between them. She had tried to delete the photo on numerous occasions, but hadn’t been able to do so. Her exchange with him a few mornings ago had been fun, but not what she wanted since it had also been frustrating.

“How about a femme fatale? You always dress so practically, it would definitely be different from your usual everyday look. Oh! I have a blonde wig you could use. And some sunglasses that would really suit your face. Loras bought them for me, but they just make my cheeks look sallow. What do you think? And what do you think of this for me?” Margaery was holding up a waitress outfit. “I’m going as Sookie from True Blood.”

Sansa laughed. “Cute. Bangable. Bronn won’t know what hit him.”

Margaery grinned. She reached for another outfit. “Here, try this on. It’s mine, so it’ll be a bit short on you, but that will work for the fatale part.”

Sansa caught the clothing in one hand, her other still holding the phone with Sandor’s wonderfully naive face staring at her like she was a goddess. _Stupid, awesome jerk. I’ll show YOU bangable._ She shut the phone off. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

**********

One of the things that sucked about being a faerie: lack of offensive powers. Margaery couldn’t put up a fight to save her life, which was how she had met Bronn, when he swooped in and saved her from a particularly nasty ghoul. One of the perks, however, was being an empath, which was way better than being telepathic. _Sorry, Sookie._ And vampires weren’t undead, so she could still feel them. Ghouls, on the other hand, well, she was ok with not knowing what they were feeling. She could feel Sansa’s sadness and regret whenever she was around the great meathead known as Sandor. She also felt the same sadness and regret that rolled off Sandor whenever he was around her best friend. She wondered what that was about.

The first time they had all met was at the ghoul nest nearly a year ago, when the hunter teams of humans and monsters collided. They had managed to work together somehow, and eradicated the ghouls. Afterward, two of the council members, Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Tyrion Lannister, had come in to explain to both teams that they would be part of the new joint human-monster coalition. Sansa had erupted into happiness, while the dark brooding man next to Margaery’s savior had plummeted into rage and disgust. Margaery had tried to stop Sansa from going after the man when he left the nesting ground. She feared for her friend’s safety around him. Sansa’s bright yellow aura had glowed so brightly next to the black hole that was the burned man, but it had diminished quickly to a dull blue. Sansa hadn’t been the same since. On the surface, she was her normal perky self, if a bit more snarky, but Margaery could see past such masks. She would have talked to Sansa about it, but Sansa’s aura dipped closer to grey whenever Sandor was brought up.

 _Well, tonight is a bright new chance!_ Margaery thought. _If I can find happiness, then so should she! We’ll get that awful Sandor off her mind so she can enjoy herself. First, a few questions to determine the situation._

“So, Sansa, I hear that Sandor Clegane was offered a position as the leader of a new team. Weren’t you offered second in command of that same team? You accepted the position, didn’t you?” Margaery asked innocently.

She felt Sansa’s energy spike. “Yes, but he turned it down. I don’t know who I’ll be working with. Dad really expected him to accept and didn’t have a second choice on the matter. Just as well. The man is full of himself. Bronn told me he once put up a notice in a town that had a problem with wayward cupids, challenging them to an archery contest. The town drunk showed up, dressed in a diaper and armed with toy arrows.” She scoffed at the thought. “The man was a fool to think something like that would work.”

Margaery winced, from both the story and the anger in Sansa. “That’s a bit...harsh. Cupids are known to love a good archery challenge, after all. I admit, he didn’t approach it well, and likely his challenge only angered them, but…”

“But nothing. I will say this, he has a strong stomach. Of all the crap he eats, he must have one, or else he would have died from poisoning.” Sansa undressed and started to put on the halter top and pencil skirt Margaery had lent her.

“He is full of good points…” _Wait, why am I defending him? I mean, he is Bronn’s best friend, and he has to have SOME redeemable qualities, but that’s not what I should be doing right now!_

“Oh, he’s full of something alright, but what he’s full of, that is to be determined,” Sansa said angrily. “He is so _fickle._ One minute, he’s fighting for peace, the next, he is fighting with his _own_ teammates. He gave poor Pod a black eye two months ago, right before Pod’s first date with Arya, and they’re both humans! Podrick Payne is one of the nicest humans I’ve ever met, the only one that Arya approves of enough to date, and I cannot fathom why Clegane would even _want_ to punch him. He changes moods like society changes the latest fashions. I will never understand him.” Sansa shoved her hair into a bun and pulled the blonde wig on. Her aura had gone from light green, to red and now was dark blue. Margaery studied her friend. Clearly, Sandor Clegane had left a lasting impression on her, one that was not going to go away easily. _Does it need to?_ she asked herself. _Underneath the dark blue, there is a glimmer of that bright yellow, buried deep inside her. She still hopes. Does she hope for him? Or something else? I must determine this. I need my yellow Sansa back!_

“Well, once the new team is completely determined, you won’t be seeing much of him, so there’s that,” Margaery offered. Sansa’s aura dropped into grey. _Curious._ “But let us not think on that. We have a party to finish getting ready for!”

Sansa smiled and nodded. Her aura did not change.

**********

Joffrey Baratheon watched the faerie monster walk around the coalition’s hallways in the security tape from a few days ago. His co-worker, Meryn Trant, was going over the current live feed, making sure no one was up to no good, though the worst thing they had caught people doing was stealing someone else’s lunch. Boros Blount, another co-worker, was watching another live feed. Their superiors, and co-heads of the security department, Brienne Tarth and Joffrey’s uncle Jaime Lannister were out on business with the council.

“Huh, looks like Blackwater’s sweet on that Tyrell bitch,” Joffrey said lazily, still watching the tape. The man had brought her flowers and she rewarded him with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a sly smile.

“More than sweet on her, sir,” Boros said. Joffrey liked that about him, he always referred to Joffrey as “sir”, even though they were on the same level. “Looks like he’s going to propose to her.”

“He wants to marry a monster?” scoffed Joffrey. “Sure, she’s fuckable, but not marriageable. What the hell is he thinking?”

Meryn shrugged. “No idea. Some guys are just into kinky, pervert stuff, I guess.”

“Hmfh,” said Joffrey. _Idiot monster lover._ “Wanna mess with them at the dance?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Nothing better to do.”


	3. Let's Dance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor's an idiot. Just fair warning.

Sansa moved in time to the music. She loved this song. She always felt free when she danced and this song was perfect for her sour mood. She had opted to leave the blonde wig behind, but had kept the rest of the outfit. She could see Lady Olenna and Lord Tywin whispering to each other while Jaime and Brienne were speaking with Lord Mace Tyrell and Margaery. The man was nice enough, but his scent was off putting. Most faeries she had met smelled of a flower of one sort or another. Margaery smelled of sunflowers. Her grandmother smelled of roses. Loras smelled of lavender. Mace smelled of...slightly rancid meat. There was only one flower she knew of that smelled like that, and it only bloomed once in its long life, the titan arum or the corpse flower. Not the case for poor Lord Tyrell. It was mentioned to Mace once by another being with a sensitive nose. He had gotten very embarrassed and left the room in a hurry. After that, he often smelled of cover up scents, which helped, but it didn’t completely erase his personal scent. After a while of being around him, one would get used to it, but the initial meet up was usually awkward.

“Cor, but yer a pretty bird,” a voice said behind her. She turned and blinked at what she saw. It was Sandor, dressed in a dandy outfit from the “gentleman days of yore.” He wore a full face mask, his hair was pulled back and tucked under a frilly hat, and the accent he had adopted was atrociously executed, but it was definitely him. She’d know his deliciously tantalizing lemonade cinnamon scent anywhere. Besides that, he was one of the largest men in the coalition. If he was trying to hide his identity, he was doing a poor job of it, but his awkward dancing amused her to no end. She smiled, her ire at him peaking. _How dare he approach me like this. Ashamed to be seen with me, Clegane?_

“Why, thank you, good _sir_ ,” she said, knowing how much he hated being called that. “I have been told I have a pretty enough face, but not enough good qualities to make up for the rest of me.”

“Must’ve been blind, poor sods,” he said. “I heard ye tease the fellows wit bad jokes, mehbe that’s why they say it?” _Did-- did he just switch accents mid-sentence?_

“What?” She wondered if he was speaking truthfully, though she had never known him to lie, and he thought she didn’t know who he was, so even less of a reason to do so now. “Who told you that?”

“Uh...no one. Oh...someone es acallin’ me over…” he had switched accents again but hadn’t noticed.

“No, wait, I can only think of one person who would say such a thing! It was Sandor Clegane, wasn’t it? That jerk, only he would say my jokes are bad.” _You ass! Reveal yourself!_

“Saaan-door Clay-gaan? Who might thet be?” he asked. _Oh, you’re gonna be like that, then? Two can play this game. What the hell accent was that anyway?_

“Oh, I’m sure you know him. Hard to miss. You know, big guy, moody, yet makes everyone laugh?” she said, smiling broadly at him. “Has he not made you laugh?”

“I em asure ah ‘ave no idea who det es.” _Oh, gods, he’s flailing!_ She had to stop herself from laughing by biting her tongue. “Pray, doooo tell, who es this men?”

“Why, he is the council’s fool! Better than Moonboy or Patchface, he kills without remorse and tramples the hearts of those who would befriend him. I tried a few times, but he spat in my face and called me the most horrible names.”

“Oh...he sounds awful…” He had forgotten to even try to use an accent, his scent was tinged with the cold snow of sorrow. She took pity on him.

“He is, but he has some good qualities,” she said as the music changed to a slow number. She slipped his arm around her waist and her hand into his. “He’s a reliable one, the jerk. Doesn’t take shit from anybody. He’s not got any monster blood in him, but he can sniff out a quarry as well as any of us. He’s honest to a fault. Once you have his trust and loyalty, he’ll die before betraying you.”

“You have experience with this?” He had still forgotten about the accent, but she could see that he was waiting for her answer expectantly. The song was nearly over, a short bittersweet love song from back when her parents had first met. Seemed appropriate to dance with him to this song. Arya was standing with Pod at the punch bowl, speaking to Robb and Merry, laughing about whatever it was. She felt a pang in her heart.

_Might as well answer him honestly._ “No, I don’t. I’ve seen it, seen how he is with Bronn and his teammates, but... He doesn’t trust me. Never has, probably never will.” She tried to smile, to laugh it off, but tears stung her eyes. “Probably for the best. I’m pretty awful. I’m a vampire after all, and we’re the scum of the earth. Or so I’m told.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Oddly enough, yeah, I do.” She trusted him to kill efficiently. She trusted him to do his damn job. She trusted him enough to not kill her when their teams had to pair up. _Scratch that, I trust him to not kill me at all. He wouldn’t hurt me, despite how he dislikes me._

“But...you said he doesn’t trust you? Surely, you must hate him.”

That she did laugh at. “Hate him? Never.”

He looked like he was about to say something, but another masked man broke them apart as the song ended. “I have to talk to you, _right now_ ,” he said to Sandor. He was dressed as the Dread Pirate Roberts and smelled of freshly turned earth after the rain. _Bronn._

“I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your business then. Thank you for the lovely dance, sir.” She bowed and left the dance floor. She had to find Margaery. Or Merry. Or Arya. She really could use a hug right now.

**********

“What the hell was that about?!” Sandor demanded as Bronn pulled him outside to a balcony.

“It was just Sansa. You don’t even like her,” Bronn said, but his suspicions about Sandor and Sansa were nearly confirmed. Sandor pulled his mask and hat off, thunderous rage in his eyes. Bronn waited for him to either dispute or confirm it. Sandor looked back into the event hall where the dance was being held.

“What do you need that’s so important then?” he asked.

_Coward,_ Bronn thought, but he felt bad for his friend and didn’t push the issue. “I just overheard some guys talking about Margaery. Joffrey Baratheon is going to ask Lord Tyrell for her hand in marriage. If he does, I’ve got no chance. Baratheon comes from a much better family than me, and a marriage to him would strengthen ties between humans and non-humans much better than a marriage to me.”

Sandor frowned and looked at him in disbelief. “You’re shitting me. Why would he do that? I don’t think he’s ever even had a whole conversation with her, and he _hates_ non-humans. Don’t know why he joined the coalition.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but maybe it was all a cover? Maybe he really does like her, but he was afraid to say anything?” Bronn suggested.

“Why would he be afraid to admit it?” Sandor asked.

Bronn, always quick of mind, said, “Well, he and his mother have been staunch supporters of the eradication unit we belonged to for years, right?” Sandor nodded. “But then, his father’s family and his grandfather make a peace treaty with the Arryns, Starks, Tullys, and Tyrells, all non-human families, and he suddenly has to play nice with the very people his mother sought to destroy. It’s a hard transition, for all of us, but most of all him, since he, and his mother, were some of the most vocal on breaking up the coalition when it first started. You know, the guy’s an ass, but he’s also proud and wouldn’t want to be seen as weak because he fell in love with a female non-human.” He wondered if Sandor realized he wasn’t talking about Joffrey Baratheon anymore.

Sandor looked thoughtful, but said, “So, you’re ok with him asking for Margaery’s hand then?”

_Shit. Almost forgot my own damn problems trying to figure out Sandor’s._ He shook his head. “Of course not, I’m just saying...never mind that. Look, until I can secure an engagement to Margaery, she’s free game to anyone who approaches her or her father. That’s just how it works for faeries. She, of course, wouldn’t say yes to anyone else, but her father... I need you to go sniff around and find out if it’s true or not. You used to be on the Lannister payroll, specifically working with Joffrey, so it’ll be less suspicious if you go instead of me.”

“Yeah, sure, but maybe you should ask Jaime and Brienne first. They’re headed this way.” Sandor gestured with his head. The couple exited the event hall and joined them on the balcony. They were dressed as Speed Racer and Trixie. Jaime looked strangely good in a black bob wig.

“Good news!” Brienne exclaimed. “Lord Tyrell has agreed to meet with you and if he finds you agreeable, you’ll have permission to ask Margaery to marry you.”

“Why did _we_ have to go talk to him again? He could have just asked Lord Tyrell up front,” Jaime said.

Brienne shook her head, “Tradition, Jaime. I mean, he could have, these are modern times, afterall. But Bronn wants to impress Lord Tyrell, and _traditionally,_ in the faerie world, you have a friend, that’s us, go to your beloved’s parents and speak highly of him, which we did. Well, which _I_ did.”

“Hey, Tyrell found my anecdotes of Blackwater to be very amusing,” Jaime protested.

Brienne turned to Bronn, who was feeling slightly panicked. “Don’t worry, it was harmless stuff, just slightly embarrassing. Anyway, go speak to Lord Tyrell. He’s waiting for you.”

Bronn clasped his hands together formally and bowed to Brienne and Jaime. “Wish me luck!” he said and reentered the event hall.

**********

“Got any fathers you need us to speak to on your behalf, Clegane?” Jaime joked. Brienne wanted to smack him. He never knew when to shut up.

“Hush, Jaime,” she admonished.

“She’s right, Lannister. Shut your trap before I shut it for you.” Sandor was in a right foul mood, which surprised Brienne a bit. She had seen him dancing with Sansa, which she thought would have left him in a good mood. Jaime hadn’t noticed the dancing, nor did he notice that Sandor really was angry.

“Come off it, Clegane. I’m sure there’s some girl willing to lay with the dreaded Hound, greatest of all the monster hunters! Graaah! Hear him roar!” Jaime laughed heartily. Brienne hissed at him to be quiet, but Sandor grabbed him by the front of his racing jumpsuit and shoved him into the wall. He was lucky he was wearing an actual helmet for his costume, even if it was pink. “Ow...that hurts…”

“Shut. Your. Fucking. Trap,” Sandor growled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll _never_ mention this _again.”_ He let go of Jaime and walked to the small staircase that lead down from the balcony to the main floor of the coalition’s compound. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room,” he yelled behind him.

Jaime waited until Sandor was out of earshot to say, “What’s his problem?”

Brienne groaned. Of course Jaime had no idea. He was often stuck in his own head. “Sandor...he...um, you just touched upon a sore spot of his, I think. Let’s go back inside and dance a bit.”

**********

“Looks like your plan failed,” Boros said as they watched Blackwater approach the faerie monster lord and the faerie monster girl.

Joffrey shrugged. “He freaked out when he heard, which was entertaining. He’s still asking for her hand, which is sickening.” They saw the girl’s smile broaden and she lept into Blackwater’s arms before he even finished speaking.

“I suppose...we could up the game. If you’re interested,” Meryn said.

He was interested. “Go on…”

**********

_FuckFuckFUCK!_ Sandor slammed his fist into the wall. He winced in pain. He tested his hand. _Not broken. Definitely bruised._ Like his ego. His solace and his torment was that she didn’t hate him. _She should. She should hate me with every fiber of her being._ It made him feel worse to know she didn’t.

He had unknowingly lived in purgatory for the past year, never really knowing what she thought of him, never truly knowing if she was still the same woman he had met a year ago today, the one who saw him, wanted him, had made him feel whole for those few minutes they had been together in that alley. Her guard was always up around him, and it had chafed, but he had understood her reluctance to trust him, though he had thought after a year of working together, she would have seen he wasn’t the same man. She did see him, clearly, better than even Bronn did, but still she didn’t let her guard down and now he knew why. She believed him to be the same as her in skill, a compliment of the highest order, but she also believed he would never trust her, would never have her back, and yet she still didn’t hate him. She trusted him, despite her belief that he did not trust her.

The look in her eyes at the end of it...just as he wasn’t the same man, she wasn’t the same woman anymore. Her spirit was cracked, and it was his fault.

**********

Margaery squealed again, her arms around Bronn’s neck as they danced. “We’re going to get married,” she said dreamily.

“Mmhmm,” Bronn said, just as dreamily. He was such a romantic when he let himself be. Though, he may have just been very relaxed from the release of tension. He had been very worried her father would have rejected him as a suitor. _Silly man. Father does whatever I ask of him._

“I don’t want to wait. Can we marry next week? It doesn’t need to be a large wedding. Just us, our family, our friends…”

A black aura caught her attention. _Sansa…_ She and Arya were talking with Brienne while Jaime snuck cookies into his pockets. She was smiling at the tall blonde, but her true emotions could not be hidden from Margaery. Arya was hanging onto her sister, something she did whenever one of them was feeling down.

“I’m worried about Sansa,” she whispered to Bronn. “I think something happened between her and Sandor a year ago, and she hasn’t been able to rebound from it. We’re so happy, I just want her to be happy, too, now more than ever.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they’re in love and just don’t know it, so they’re making themselves and each other miserable because of it,” Bronn said. Margaery stared at him. “What?”

“That’s it! Or rather, it could be. That could be the solution!” she exclaimed.

Bronn looked confused. “Margie, you lost me.”

“Sansa and Sandor. Sandor and Sansa. They’re rather perfect for each other, don’t you think?”

Bronn thought about it, “I guess I could see it? I don’t know, Margie. Sansa’s a sweet girl, and Sandor’s...well, he’s kind of a prick, especially to her. Besides, he’s so much older than her...”

“No, she’s older,” Margaery corrected him.

“Wait...what?”

“Uh, hello, she’s a vampire. Do we need to have a Monster Basics class again?” she asked with a grin. He looked sheepish. It had been one of their excuses to be alone together when the coalition first came into being, private classes when ones for the general public were available. Hours spent together under the pretense of ‘learning more about the various monster types.’ He had spent more time learning about her, to be honest, but Margaery hadn’t minded. She had been able to learn about him, too. “Ok, so first off, what most humans think of as vampires are…”

“Are actually ghouls,” Bronn finished. “There are two types of real vampires, born and transformed. Ghouls are created when a transformation goes wrong, ranging from an ‘evil vampire’ to a mindless eating machine.”

Margaery patted him encouragingly. “Correct! Real vampires are not...

“Undead.” Another bit of praise. Bronn went on, “They’re more sensitive than humans, but they can walk in the sun, they can eat garlic, they can wear silver. They’re more like humans than any other monster race, except for witches. But they drink blood…”

“They do, it gives them what they need. They can eat human food, but they can’t process the nutrients they require from it as well as humans can. They need to drink it from a human in order to digest it properly. The good ones are able to make a meal last a week before needing to feed again, and they generally erase the memory from the human they drink from, or give them a better memory. Sansa used to be the latter, but for the past year, she’s opted for erasing memories completely instead.” Margaery sighed. It had just been another sign, hadn’t it? “They are born and age just like humans, but they can stop their aging when they want to. Sansa stopped her aging when she was nineteen. She’s actually three months older than Sandor.”

“Oh...wait, but Arya’s not a vampire, she’s a werewolf. I don’t remember you explaining that one.”

Margaery giggled. Humans were so funny sometimes. “So most monsters can cross breed. Their offspring will either take after one parent or the other. That’s why Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon are vampires, and Arya is a werewolf. Their cousin Jon took after his mother instead of his dragon father, and is also a werewolf. In rare instances, there have been hybrids, but they’re born sterile. Mating with humans is also possible. Hybrids are the result, and they are not sterile, but they’re not as powerful as a full monster.”

“So, any kids we have will be halfing fae?” Bronn asked. Margaery nodded. “Cute.”

She giggled, “Very. But we have to get through the wedding first, and before that, we have to get Sansa and Sandor together, or at least see if they can be civil to each other. Can’t have the maid of honor and the best man at each other’s throats.”

“Got a plan then?” he asked. She grinned at him. Silly man, of course she did.

“I think we need to have a chat with some of our friends first, but yes, I do.”


	4. Ask Me No Questions; I'll Tell You No Lies

Arya waited in the hallway outside the men’s changing room. Pod had already told her that the Hound was definitely in there, and would be out any minute. If anyone besides Margaery had asked for her help, she would have told them to go sit on a rusty knife, but the damned faerie had said it was for Sansa’s sake, that she wanted her maid of honor and Bronn’s best man to get along better for the wedding next weekend. Arya had doubts about Margaery’s  _ other _ reason, though she could kind of understand it. For a human, Sandor was ok. He wasn’t Pod, but Pod was really one of a kind, even if he was a bit stupidly adorable.

The scent of sour lemon hit her nose before she saw him. “Oy, Sandor, a word?”

He seemed to be in a bad mood. “What do you want, wolf-girl?”

“What happened to your hand?” It was wrapped up and had a cold pack on it. She could smell a faint trace of blood under the wrappings.  _ Bruised skin? Or clotted wound? _ It was difficult to tell with the bandages.

“Nothing, just had a disagreement. Now what do you want?” he said, hiding his hand behind his gym bag.

“I’ve been instructed to bring you for an interview,” she shrugged. “Follow me.”

“Is this for that damned task force position again? I already told them no,” he growled but he was following her down the hallway.

“The task force?  _ You _ got asked to join the task force?” She laughed. “That’s rich! I admit, for a human you have skills, but how are you to keep up with people like me and Sansa? We’ll outrun you, outgun you,  _ and _ outman you, if you’re not careful.”

“You’re on the task force?  _ Sansa _ is on the task force??” he asked. 

“She’s not just on the task force, she’s the second in command. The guy they asked to be the head turned it down, but I think they have someone else in the running now, a human. Dad’s hoping the new guy and Sansa hit it off. Bronn asking Margaery to marry him is a step in the right direction for human-monster relations, and he’d like to continue that.” That was a complete fabrication. She knew her father was holding out to see if his choice of commander would change his mind. Arya knew how stubborn Sandor was.

She noticed he had tensed at that, then mutter under his breath, “Fuck.” 

His scent had shifted to a more sour lemon, indicating disappointment.  _ Hmm...maybe Margaery was right after all. _ “Of course, Sansa probably won’t fall into that plan.”

“She won’t?”

“Well, she’s never really dated. Like, at all.” Arya watched his reaction carefully. He was still tense, but not as much.

“I thought vamps were all about ‘feeding while breeding’, a ‘fuck and suck’, or whatever else they call it,” he said. She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but either way, she started laughing.

“Oh. My. GODS! Have you  _ met _ Sansa?! She’s a fucking  _ prude _ when it comes to feeding.” She kept giggling about it. It was just too funny. “She always glamours the humans she feeds from, so they don’t remember being fed on. Now that she has an assigned blood donor, you’d think she’d stop, but she upped the ante. I mean, I don’t think Harry even remembers a single feeding or any of his time with her, she limits their interactions and just completely wipes his memory of it. It’s not like it’s even very intimate to begin with. Bran has more intimate feedings with a  _ plastic blood bag _ than Sansa has with her donor.”

“Never asked…” he grumbled. 

“But you wanted to know, so why didn’t you just ask her?” No answer. “Look, Hound, I’ve seen how you look at my sister. If you want to know something, just  _ ask _ her. Despite your treatment of her, she trusts you and would answer any questions you have. She respects you, for some reason.” He growled at that. She just laughed some more. 

They had turned many corners and walked down several hallways. She had slowly been leading him towards the interrogation chambers, essentially leading him in circles, but he had yet to say anything. His distraction was working to her advantage. She opened the door for him before he could see the placard that told him where he was.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” she said in mock sweetness. He stepped over the threshold, then froze. She shifted to her half form and used her massive foot to kick him into the room. He was strapped down to the interrogation chair in less than five seconds. Arya was good at her job, if nothing else. She shifted back to human. “Like I said, someone will be with you shortly. I suggest you behave, or things could go much worse for you,” she said before shutting the door on him, ignoring his yelled insults and curses.

**********

She sent Bronn in first. She heard him say, “Calm down, Sandor, they’re not going to hurt you.”

“The fuck is goin’ on?!” he roared. “I’ve done nothing warranting this!”

Margaery entered second, “Haven’t you? I have it on very good authority that something happened between you and Sansa Stark, and you’re not leaving here until we find out what.”

He glared at her. “You self-righteous, egotistical--”

“Sandor!” Bronn interrupted. “She’s just trying to help. It’ll be easier on you if you just cooperate.” Margaery placed her hand on Bronn’s arm to let him know it was ok. His aura was bubbling red.

“Fuck you, fuck your new  _ bride _ , and fuck whoever the hell else is coming in. I have nothing to say to  _ any _ of you,” he snarled.

“Oh, you won’t have any choice in the matter,” a third voice said. Bran Stark entered the room. “I apologize for the intrusion, but my sister has been suffering long enough because of you, and I hope to help settle this.”

“Like hell--” Bran’s eyes glowed, causing Sandor to fall silent under Bran’s influence. His aura fell to a soft blue.

He spoke softly, “What is your name?”

“Sandor Clegane.” His eyes were glassy, his voice was soft, for once. Well, as soft as it could be.

“Tell me, how long have you known Sansa Stark?” Bran asked.

“One year and one day.”

“Ask him about how he first met her, they had an argument,” Margaery said.

“Tell me about when you first met Sansa, you had an argument, what was it about?”

“We didn’t argue when we first met. We kissed.”

“I’m sorry...scary big man say  _ what?!” _ Margaery asked.

“Answer her and explain yourself,” Bran said, frowning.

“I met Sansa when she pulled me into an alley and she...she propositioned me. She kissed me, and it escalated quickly to just short of actual sex. She received a phone call from her brother about work, interrupting us. We exchanged numbers to meet up the next day. She took a photo of us and sent it to me, so I would have her number. She walked away, then I got a call about a nest and left as well.” Pink aura.  _ Interesting. He’s shy about this, embarrassed. _

“So you met her again at the nest?” Bran asked. Sandor nodded. “Tell me about that.” 

“It was obvious that the team she was with was our rivals. We hadn’t seen them before, but they clearly knew what they were doing. Between them and us, we finished off the nest easily, and Sansa...she was beautiful. I had been attracted before, but seeing her in action, she was like a bird, a falcon or a hawk, and we worked well as a tag team. When the dust settled, I wanted to go to her, kiss her and...and love her. She was perfect.” Blue aura.  _ Sadness that he didn’t do it or… _ The aura changed to red, bubbling like before. “Then the council members appeared. One human and one a werewolf. I knew the human, Tyrion Lannister, and stayed my hand from killing the werewolf. Then they introduced themselves.  _ Lord Eddard fuckin’ Stark, _ head of the werewolves, and his team of monster hunters. Monsters killing monsters, but they only went after  _ bad _ monsters. And this woman, Sansa, beautiful, ass kicking Sansa, she wasn’t just a monster, she was a  _ fuckin’ vampire. _ A vampire wiped out my family, and I had gone and nearly  _ fucked _ one. I left, I had to get out of there, but she followed me. She looked so  _ fuckin’ _ happy to see me again, and she was concerned about me, asking me if I was ok. I wasn’t. I should have told her I needed a moment. I should have held my tongue. I should have done a lot of things differently. I turned on her. I let my anger guide my words. I saw her happiness dissolve into pieces as I told her I wanted nothing to do with a filthy vampire and that her kind were the scum of the earth, preying on innocent people.” 

Margaery grew cold as his aura shifted to ice blue. Regret. Major regret. “I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it. I wanted to take it back the next night when she and I were supposed to meet up. I’ve wanted to take it back every day, every night, every  _ moment  _ since. She’s  _ nothing  _ like the monster that destroyed my family. She was the first good thing to happen to me in a long, long time, and I fucked it up, like I always do. The really messed up part? She doesn’t hate me. After every awful thing I’ve ever said to her, and she still doesn’t hate me. She thinks I don’t trust her, but I do. I trust her with my life.”

She thought her heart would break for him, for Sansa, but she was going to fix this, fix them. They were both really lucky to have a friend like Margaery Tyrell. “Bran, I think we’re done here. If you would be so kind as to wipe his memory, I’ll wait outside for you.” 

Only a few minutes later, Bran exited the interrogation chamber. Arya was leaning on the wall. She had been acting as a lookout since they didn’t exactly have permission to be using the interrogation room. “That was very informative, don’t you think?” Margaery asked. 

Bran smiled. “More than you think.”

“Oh?”

“He wasn’t under my influence for most of his confession.”

Both Margaery and Arya stared at him. “What? Why? How?” Margaery asked.

Bran shook his head. “A feeling I had. Once I got him going, I let go of my hold. If he had stopped talking, I would have taken control again, but he didn’t stop, and I think he told us more than he would have if I hadn’t let him go. I left him with the memory of admitting everything, just made him think it was only Bronn who heard. He just...he really needed to talk to someone about it.”


	5. What's Your Malfunction

Sandor stared at the coffee cup in his hands. Bronn was sitting next to him in the break room. He couldn’t believe he had just told him about that first night when he met Sansa. He was just glad no one else was in the room at the time.

“Feel better?” Bronn asked quietly.

Sandor nodded. “Like a weight has been lifted, actually.”

“What are you going to do?”

He looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Bronn rolled his eyes and sighed. “I _mean,_ you clearly have feelings for the girl. Friendly or otherwise. Are you going to talk to her? Maybe apologize? Clear the air? Start fresh? You know, like a normal person would.”

Sandor glared at him, but then resigned himself. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can, start fresh at least. I guess I can apologize…”

“You’re afraid she’ll reject the apology?” Sandor said nothing, so Bronn continued. “She won’t. She’ll probably hug you and say you can make it up to her by buying her a lemon cake. She’s got a big heart. She’ll give you a second chance.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“She’ll give it to you anyway. Look, I have to go do some paperwork. Just take some time, think about what you want to do. At the very least, you two could be friends. Let me know if I can help.” His chair screeched as it slid against the tiles and his footsteps echoed slightly as he walked out of the room.

Sandor sat there for the next hour, watching people come and go. Few looked over at him, none tried to chat. That was fine with him as he wrestled back and forth over trying to make up with Sansa or not. No matter what he decided, he felt he should apologize to Podrick. He had punched his teammate a few months ago, after hearing him say that he had a date with "the pretty Stark girl." How was Sandor supposed to know Pod meant Arya?

Finally, he came to a conclusion. _Friends. Yeah, I can do that._ He stood from his seat. He thought he remembered there being some of those cookies Sansa liked to snack on in the walk-in pantry. _A peace offering is always a good conversation starter._ The doors of the pantry swung close behind him. He found the box after a few moments of looking. _Sweet little bird has such a sweet little tooth. Well, not so little. She eats sweets like she breathes air. Almost as bad as Jaime Lannister. Oh, hey, cheesy puffs._ He grabbed the bag of faux cheese deliciousness, setting aside the cookies for the time being.

He heard footsteps as people entered the break room again.

“Can you believe Sansa has a thing for _him?”_ he heard the youngest Stark say. His heart stopped. _Sansa likes someone?_

“I know, it’s shocking,” _Jaime_. “Seriously, what does she see in him?”

“Oy, either of you seen Sandor?” _Bronn. Shit, please don’t need anything from the pantry._ “I needed to check with him about something. Oh, are those Dragon Scout cookies?”

**********

Jaime handed him a box. Bronn sat down with them and opened it. “Yeah, help yourself. Kid on my block is a Dragon Scout, well, she’s a Hatchling level, and I bought a ton of cookies from her. Brienne threatened to dismember me if I didn’t bring some to the office to share.” He looked very put out by this. Bronn could only chuckle. He looked over at the table he had left Sandor at. The coffee mug was still there, unwashed, meaning Sandor was probably still around. Bronn found it amusing that the big, scary Sandor was something of a neat freak.

“So, Sandor?” Bronn asked again, taking a bite out of the coconut and chocolate ringed cookie.

Rickon pointed to the pantry and grinned. “Haven’t see him. If he was here, he left already.”

“Speaking of,” Jaime said, leaning in. “We were just talking about this, I heard from Brienne, who heard from Margaery, who verified it from Arya...that Sansa _is in love with Sandor_.” They heard a crash and explosion from the pantry and what he thought was an orange cloud fluffed out from inside the pantry. Bronn had to bite back a laugh. They all pretended to not notice.

“Yeah, it’s gotta be love,” Rickon said, “The family thought she’d never take an interest in a guy. Actually, Robb had money on her running away with Margaery.”

“Oy!” Bronn said, frowning at the pipsqueak, though Rickon was nearly as tall as himself.

“Sorry, but that’s what he thought!” Rickon said, grinning. _Cheeky bastard._

**********

_Oh fuck me sideways, are they serious?!_ Sandor thought to himself. He was looking through the slats of the pantry doors and hadn’t noticed that he was now covered in orange cheese dust from when the bag in his hands exploded in his surprised grip.

**********

“Seriously though, I’ve never known her to be so taken with a man, and a human to boot,” Rickon said. “It’s beyond understanding.”

“Maybe she’s pretending?” Jaime asked.

Bronn shrugged. “I heard this same news from Margaery, but… I s’pose that’s possible.”

“Pretending? You realize this is _Sansa_ we’re talking about. She’s the worst liar!” Rickon laughed. “Arya will sooner wear a dress willingly than Sansa will tell a believable lie.”

“Are you sure it’s love?” Jaime asked. “I mean, what are her symptoms?”

Bronn whispered to Rickon, “Make it good, pipsqueak. Pretty certain Sandor’s just about ready to take the bait.”

Rickon nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “Well, I really shouldn’t say. I didn’t exactly come into this knowledge...well, ethically.”

“You read her diary, didn’t you?” Jaime asked with an amused look on his face.

“Just a little,” Rickon admitted. “I needed blackmail material on her. I need her help getting Shireen to go out with me, and Sansa is on the same team as her.”

“You do realize all you have to do is _ask_ your sister, right?” Bronn said. “Sansa isn’t exactly known to turn someone down if they’re asking for help or forgiveness.” He might have said that last part a little louder than normal.

**********

_Shit...it has to be true. Rickon’s her brother. If it was anyone other than her family saying it, I would think it’s really a joke._ Sandor munched on a cheesy puff as he listened intently.

**********

“Will she ever tell him how she feels?” Jaime asked. “I mean, if she loves him, she would want to tell him, wouldn’t she?”

“No, and she probably never will. It will end up driving her crazy though,” Rickon said, shaking his head.

“Margaery mentioned that, the not telling him part, I mean. She said that Arya said that Sansa said, ‘How can I tell him? He cannot possibly return my feelings.’ Which, I cannot blame her for thinking that.” Bronn broke open the second package of cookies, while Jaime looked mournfully at it.

“Yeah, I found a notebook that she’s written dozens of letters in. Each one is scratched out, unsuitable to send, I suppose, and each one is written to Clegane. I even found one in her trash can once, torn into a thousand pieces. I saw in her diary, she mentioned it. She wrote ‘how can I tell him, he will mock my feelings as he mocks me daily.’ I still can’t believe she loves him. She’s really quite brilliant, except for loving Clegane. He’s an ass.” Rickon’s smile was much too wide as he said this, though Bronn had to agree.

“If she won’t tell him, maybe someone else should,” Jaime suggested. Another clatter from the pantry. Bronn smiled wickedly. _He’s making this too easy._

“No, what good will that do?” Bronn asked. “Margaery thinks that Sansa will surely die. She will die if he does not love her, she will die before she tells him, and she will die if he woos her as a joke.”

“Hey, guys!” Pod said entering the break room. They all muttered greetings. “Just came to pick up some chips for Arya.” He looked in the cabinets, then headed towards the pantry. Rickon was up in a flash, but he didn’t beat Pod to it. “Man, she really likes those cheddar ones. Ate a whole bag in less time that it took to open-- What’s wrong with the pantry door?”

Bronn hit his palm to his face, trying to conceal his amusement from Podrick. He could only guess that Sandor was holding it closed from the inside. Rickon was pushing Pod away from it, “Probably just stuck, moisture build up or something. I think there’s some of those chips in the kitchen. I’ll call maintenance to come fix the pantry.”

“Oh, ok, thanks!” Pod shuffled off in a hurry. _Another fool in love,_ Bronn thought to himself. Being around Arya Stark was good for the boy though, and he had a calming effect on the wolf girl as well, which _everyone_ was grateful for.

“Well, getting back to Sandor finding out, it’s probably for the best he _not_ know. He’ll scorn her love,” Jaime said. “He is one of the most hateful men I’ve ever met. A mean brute, if you held a gun to my head and asked me to be honest.”

“Oh, but he’s actually quite proper, under all that gruff muscle and foul language,” Bronn protested. “In battle, he is the best of all of us, and carries himself proudly. I swear to all Seven, the man is actually quite intelligent. He only grunts at others because he is too rude to make actual conversation.”

“I suppose,” Jaime said, “he does show a bit of wit at times, when he lets his guard down around us, but still, he shouldn’t be told. He can figure it out for himself, if he’s so smart. Hopefully, she’ll get over these feelings before he realizes.”

“I better go find him. Thanks for the cookies, Kingslayer,” Bronn said, grabbing two more boxes and exiting the room. He waited a few more moments until Jaime and then Rickon exited the room. “Nice job guys. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else I need you to do.”

“Sure thing.”

“No problem. Here, take another box of cookies.” Jaime plucked a box from the top of a huge pile he had on a wagon that he was pulling around with him.

“By the Warrior, how many boxes did you buy from this kid?” Bronn asked.

Jaime shrugged. “All of them? I don’t know,” he said and walked off.

Bronn leaned against the wall, cookie boxes under one arm and texting on his phone with the other hand.

**B: Where are you? Wanted to make sure you’re ok.**

He heard Sandor’s roaring text notification go off in the break room. Bronn had stolen Sandor’s phone a long time ago and added the text notification as a joke, but Sandor seemed to like it and had kept it.

**HOUND: Yeah, I’m fine. Going to go to my room to clean up. Had a mishap in the break room.**

Bronn chuckled. _I bet you did. I could smell the cheese dust from where I sat. And I’m only human!_

**B: Ok. Let’s spar later?**

**HOUND: Sure.**

Bronn started walking away when he ran into Sansa. “Hey, Bronn, Margaery’s looking for you. And Sandor, too. You seen him?”

“Not in a while. Try the break room?” Bronn suggested, feeling only slightly guilty.

**********

Sandor sat down in front of his abandoned coffee mug. _She loves me…_ He looked down at himself. _Why?!_ He shook his head violently, knocking some of the cheese dust from his hair. _No, doesn’t matter. She loves me, they said she did. It must be true, they were upset about it. They seemed to pity her… Those assholes. Even if they’re in the right, they’re supposed to stick up for me! But if she loves me, I can love her in return. That...that would actually be easy. Though, I may have some quirks to work through, what with all the hostility I’ve been showing her. I can still keep to my original gameplan, start slow, as friends. Work my way up from there._

He heard footsteps enter the break room and stop suddenly. He looked up and saw her. She was wrinkling her nose, probably from the stench of powdered cheese. “What in the world happened to you?”

He looked up to see Sansa staring at him. “Uh, cheesy puff malfunction?”

She stifled a laugh. “Ok, then. Well, Margaery’s sent me to find you. She needs you for a final fitting. The wedding being in two days and all that.”

He rose from his seat and bowed formally. “I thank you for the pains you took to tell me.” Roundabout way to apologize for being an ass, but he’d give her a proper apology later. He knew she liked being traditional as much as he hated it (mocked it), and this was his first step toward making amends.

Her eyebrow rose and she gave him a slight and very amused smile, “It was as painful to tell you as it was for you to thank me for telling you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If it had actually been painful, I wouldn’t have done it at all, Clegane.”

“Then, you were happy to deliver the message?” He felt stupid for asking.

She looked at him like he was crazy, but she was still amused. He could live with that. “Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” She looked him over. “Ugh, sit back down, Clegane. You’re making a mess.” She walked over to the sink, grabbed a paper towel, and wet it.

“What are you doing??” he asked, slightly panicked. She tsked him and forced him back into his seat.

“Cleaning you up. Just be still, alright?” She started wiping the cheese dust from him, starting with his hair. It was oddly soothing, and he found himself leaning into her touch. “You’re worse than a child, sometimes. Or like a dog that doesn’t want a bath,” she murmured. “How did this happen?”

“Um, I was holding the bag, and was startled by...something. I gripped it so hard, it exploded. Made a small cloud and everything.”

“Hmm, and what _ever_ could have startled the fearsome Hound?” she asked, teasing him before moving on to his face. “I’ve seen you stare down some pretty scary monsters and not bat an eye.”

“Monsters are easy to deal with. Other things are not.” He was going to be stubborn if she kept asking. There are just some things that a man cannot admit to. Not before the time was right.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” She moved on to his jacket and shirt, which were relatively cheese free and she made quick work of it. “There. You’re clean. Well, clean-ish. Cheesy lemonade is not pleasant.” She wrinkled her nose again. _Wh-what? What does that mean?_ “Better take a shower before seeing Margaery, but at least you won’t get stared at when you walk down the halls.” She threw the now orange colored towel in the trash.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, hoping for the best.

She looked at him, then shrugged. “I’m not being nice, I’m just being decent, but I guess it’s because you’re actually letting me. Go take that shower, then go see Margaery. Later, Clegane,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him.


	6. I Owe Mother One Potted Plant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Sansa's turn.

Sansa was standing on the balcony, enjoying the feel of the sun against her skin and the wind in her hair. _Thank goodness all the stories are lies! I don’t think I could live without feeling this warmth!_ Sunbathing was one of her favorite past times, though she couldn’t do it for long, since her skin did redden easily. She leaned over, resting her chin on her hands. _Sandor was acting so weird earlier. Maybe he’s coming down with something? I’ll see if I can convince the lunch ladies to serve some chicken noodle soup in addition to the normal meal. He does like chicken a lot._ She smiled to herself. Her friend Jeyne Poole was head of the cafeteria and it wasn’t the first time she had convinced her to add on to the menu, usually when Sandor was starting to feel sick. Her reasoning was that if he got sick, the rest of the team would get sick, and it could spread to her team. Not that she told Jeyne that. Jeyne thought it was Sansa who needed the chicken soup. She let her mind wander to thoughts of taking care of Sandor on his sickbed. It had been a nice moment they had had earlier. _Maybe we can be friends after all. I doubt he’d want more than that though._

Below her, she saw Arya and Brienne practicing their fencing. Podrick and Jaime were nearby, also practicing fencing, but both the men kept glancing over at the women and accidentally poking each other with their rapiers. It was amusing.

“So, do you think he’ll ever tell her?” Arya asked Brienne. Sansa’s ears twitched a little. She did love her some gossip.

“Doubtful. He’s too proud, and she’s too...” their swords clashed, and they pushed against each other to jump back a few paces, “she’s too aloof for him to think she would return his feelings.” _Hmm? Oh, this sounds interesting!_

**********

_‘She’s hooked!’_ Brienne said via psychic link to Arya. Arya gave her a slight nod and continued. “I feel I should be surprised, but really, it’s sooooo obvious once you think about it. Of course, the Hound is in love with Sansa!”

Arya jumped to the side to narrowly miss being hit by a potted plant.

**********

Sansa hid behind the balcony railing, her hands covering her mouth. _WHAT?! No!_ In her surprise, she had knocked over one of the plants her mother had put out to liven up the coalition’s building. She’d make it up to her later. For now, she needed to hear more.

**********

“Weird. Freak wind, you think?” Arya asked Brienne with a knowing smile.

Brienne returned it, “I suppose so. Let’s take a break. Are you _sure_ he loves her?”

Arya shrugged, “The Hound is completely lovesick for her, though he hides it well enough. I heard it from Bronn himself. He wanted me to tell Sansa, but I refused. The Hound is better off finding someone else to sniff around.”

**********

_Bitch! Figuratively and literally!_ Sansa glared at her sister, gripping the bars of the balcony railing angrily. _Why wouldn’t you tell me?!_

**********

“Really? Why? Does Clegane not deserve someone like Sansa? I always thought they would do well together, if they were both so inclined.”

Arya snickered, enjoying her role immensely. “Oh, the Hound is as decent a warrior as I’ve ever encountered, and he deserves a mate equal to him, but Sansa is cold-hearted towards Clegane. She would freeze him solid if they ever hooked up.”

Brienne winced. _‘That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?’_

Arya shrugged.  _Tough love, Brie._ “My sister has never shown an interest in any man before, why should she show one in the Hound? Robb and I were sure that she was going to run off with Margaery one of these days.” Brienne’s eyes went wide at that. “Now I think that she simply _cannot_ love like that. She cannot be affectionate or see the affection sent towards her. Besides, Bronn said that the Hound doesn’t expect her to return his feelings, since he himself would mock her if the situation were reversed.”

“He expects her to mock him?” Brienne asked incredulously.

“Well, not mock him, but not receive the news in a happy manner. He fears rejection, is what I’m saying.” Arya took a swig from the water bottle she had brought with her.

“I suppose she might do that. Neither of them seemed to actually like each other, though that’s obviously not the case with Clegane. I could see how he would think she’d reject him. But, would she?” Brienne was playing her role well. Arya made a mental note to test her out in undercover operations.

“Hard to say. Any male she _has_ been attracted to in when we were younger tended to be...well, a bit feminine, actually. Mostly celebrity crushes, ya know. The Hound is anything _but_ feminine. Granted, what we liked in our youth, we may not be able to stomach in our old age.” Brienne chuckled at that. Arya looked over at Pod with a dopey grin, before continuing, “Though, even if she does like him, even a little, I still wouldn’t tell her. I honestly don’t think she could return his feelings to the same extent. She’s a bit of an ice queen. Ask any of the men who have pursued her. If he’s pretty, she’ll say he should wear a dress and be her sister instead. If he’s tall and skinny, like right proper skinny, she’ll say he’s a head on top of a spear. If he’s short, then she’ll say she’s afraid of stepping on him. If he talks too much, she’ll say he goes in too many directions at once, but if he’s too silent, then he’s stuck in life.”

Brienne nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, she can be too picky.”

“Not admirable at all. Really, she would nag him to death, if she didn’t reject him outright. So, I’ll tell him about some of her more horrible traits, but I will be honest about them. Nothing kills love quicker.”

“Oh, don’t slander her so much. They still have to work together. You know, your sister is intelligent and quick minded, she must be a good judge of character, so maybe she won’t dismiss him immediately. Sandor Clegane is one of the finest warriors in the coalition, and one of the most worthy men in all of Westeros, aside from my Jaime, of course.” They looked back at Pod and Jaime, who had abandoned their fencing and were now arguing over the Dragon Scout cookies. Brienne sighed heavily. “My point is, Clegane is the best man of single stature in our company, he’s intelligent, strong, and brave. He may not be the best looking man, but he has a formidable and upstanding reputation. One he has earned well. Oh, speaking of reputations, I got a new sword from Mikken and Tobho, great for decapitations of white walkers. Want to go check it out?”

**********

_Rude! All of those “suitors” were unsuitable to begin with, in my defense. And so what if I’m picky? Just means I have high standards. My point system has yet to fail me...well...Sandor doesn’t count, yet, since we never went out, so technically, my point system works just fine!_ Sansa was staring daggers at Arya and Brienne as they went back inside with Pod and Jaime running after them. She softened her expression as she thought of her warrior. _He loves me!_

_But...do they really think I’ll be a bad match for Sandor? No! I will not let them. I will make myself more worthy of his love. I try to be kind, when he lets me, but I suppose I could try to do so even when he doesn’t let me as well. I can’t just TELL him I care for him, that I can return his love, I have to show him! From now on, I’ll be more action and less thinking. More Romeo, and less Hamlet. Yes! I can do this!_

She stood up from her hiding place and stretched. Her phone announced, _You have a message!_

**MarsBar: Going out for a bachlorette party tonight. You in? The boys are going out as well, but we both promised to keep it clean.**

**S: Of course. Come by my room when you want to get ready.**

**********

“Looks like tonight's the night,” Boros said, watching the screens. Their bosses were interviewing new candidates for the security of the coalitions compound and had left him, Meryn, and Joff to keep watch.

“I’ve already got the video done, now all we need to do is make the groom see it and not trace it back to us. Think you can handle it?” Joff asked.

“Of course. Won’t be a problem,” Meryn said in complete confidence.

**********

“So,” Jaime said, looking over the resumes, “You think you’re cut out for the elite security team here? That you are good and true men to be offered this job?”

“Considering you have your nephew on the ‘elite’ team,” Brienne said, “You need to be more careful with your wording. Grenn, Pyp, and Dolorous Edd have excellent qualifications. Um, remind me, which one is Grenn and which one is Pyp?”

“Me,” two of them said together.

“Right,” Jaime muttered. “So, since you were a team before, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be one here as well. Which of you would you recommend to be leader of the group?”

“Edd,” two said at the same time the third said, “Grenn.”

“Dolorous Edd, it is then. Congratulations,” Jaime said, offering his hand to the morose looking man.

He sighed and accepted the hearty handshake, “Leadership is a hard task, riddled with stress and pressure to succeed, but of course I would receive it.”

“Well, your job is fairly straightforward. You patrol the grounds, take note of any suspicious behavior, bring in anyone who is breaking the law. Now, as you should know, the entire compound belongs to the coalition, but we do have civilians who live here, both human and non-humans. It’s like a small city here, and at its center is the coalition building. The strike teams and administration live here. You will be given living quarters in the barracks, but you have the option to upgrade, at your own expense of course. Barracks are six to a room, you’ll be placed with…” He looked down at the assignment sheet in front of him. “Ah, Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly. Excellent. I’m sure you’ll get along well. Jon and Sam are also in the patrols, but I have to tell you, Jon Snow is a werewolf. He’s one of our best patrolmen, though he takes himself way too seriously. Sam is the medic, so if something happens to you, see him, he’ll patch you right up.”

“I will probably be the first to see him,” Dolorous Edd said sadly. “And it will probably be beyond his experience, for I am Dolorous Edd.”

“I’m sure it will be alright,” Brienne said kindly. “Sam is one of our best maesters.” She was being too nice to the sad man. Jaime needed her attention back on him.

He stood up and put on his hips to strike an imposing pose, flexing his muscles just enough to stand out, but not be overtly noticeable. Or so he thought. “Let’s go through a list of your duties before I send you off.”

Brienne rolled her beautiful eyes and shook her head, “I’ll be waiting in my office to take them on their tour, so once you quit posturing, just give me a call.” Jaime’s eyes were glued to her cute rear as she walked out of the office.

His wife had such hypnotizing hips. “What was I saying?” he asked the three men. 

“Our duties, sir,” either Pyp or Grenn said.

“Right, ok, so pretty straightforward, as I already mentioned. You will each have a lantern, a notebook, and a baton.” He handed out their equipment. “Captain Tarth will be your immediate supervisor. I’m in charge of security intelligence,” he gestured to the security monitors, “while she is in charge of actually keeping order. She will give you a short tour of the facilities, and get you your name badges. Write down anything you notice while on patrol. There’s going to be a wedding here in the next few days, so be on high alert. There have been some rumors of mischief since it is a mixed species wedding, a faerie to a human.”

“You can count on us, sir!” Grenn or Pyp said. Dolorous Edd just sighed and nodded.


	7. The Shitith Hath Hitith The Fan...ith

Sansa ran down the hallway towards Arya’s room. _Oh gods, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late! We’re not going to get her dressed in time, we’re going to miss the reservation, and then Margaery’s not going to let me be the maid of honor anymore!_

She turned the corner, jumping to the wall to redirect her inertia and not lose any speed, and ran straight into a wall of pure muscle. Or she would have if her instincts hadn’t kicked in. She leapt up, tucking her knees in and tumbled over the wall, landing on her feet in a crouch, and spinning around to face the wall.

“Clegane,” she breathed in relief and stood. He had turned to face her. “Sorry about that, I was in a hurry…”

“Bachelorette party, then?” he asked, eyeing her. She blushed, she knew what she must look like, hair disheveled, no makeup, and slightly rumpled clothing from the running and jumping.

“Yeah, you? Bachelor party?” She looked him up and down. He was dressed casual, but nice, in black slacks, a crisp white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a loosened black tie. “Or are you coming back from it already?”

He laughed, deep and throaty, tilting his head back. She felt tingles up and down her spine. “Going to it, and might as well be comfortable.”

“Well, I won’t ask where you’re going, but…” she reached up and straightened his tie, “I think you should at least wait until you get there to undo this.”

“Gonna make me button my sleeves, too?” His voice was slightly huskier and he offered his arm to her. His scent was stronger on his wrist and she had to bite back the urge to nibble him.

“Um, well, you already wrinkled them, so I think you’re ok there. Besides, you want to show off your forearms, don’t you?” She felt her blood pounding a little in her ears as she traced the tattoo of an open book with a sword behind it. A ribbon in front of the book had the words _‘Canis morieris enim tu, et non mentietur.’_  “I would, if I were you. I mean, it’s a rather nice tattoo on a rather nice arm. Just...saying…” She felt like her face was on fire.

“Th-thanks. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I have your permission to keep my sleeves up then?” he asked hesitantly, his voice still husky. His face was a little red, too. _Why does he have to be so cute?!_

She giggled. “Yeah, have ‘em call me up, and I’ll give ‘em a good talkin’ to. Ah, but have them call from your phone. Don’t go giving out my number. Oh, do you still have...”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you put an unflattering nickname on it?” She saw the slight twitch that meant he was amused.

She quirked her eyebrow, giving him a small smile, “Maybe. You?”

“Maybe.”

Her phone rang, startling them both. _“Incoming call! Incoming call!”_ She gave him an apologetic look as she answered, “Yeah?”

 _“Did you finish with Arya yet?”_ Margaery asked.

“Oh gods! I’m not...I just...I’ll be right there!” She hung up the phone, “Sorry, stud, gotta go!” She ran off, praying she could still get Arya ready in time.

**********

His pulse was still racing as he walked towards the garage. His skin was still tingling where she had touched him. His ears were burning from her words. _“Sorry, stud, gotta go!”_ He kept repeating it over in his head, one word, a word he hadn’t heard in a year, _“stud.”_

_That’s what she called me before…_

**********

“You got the video uploaded?” Joffrey asked. He was waiting for updates from Oakheart, who was inside the bar as a guest of the groom. He had convinced the man to spy on the bachelor party for “security reasons” by telling him that he believed someone at the party had malintentions towards Blackwater.

 _“Yeah, sending it to various people associated with the coalition through an anonymous email address. That should get the ball rolling. Tracing the emails as well, and...whoa, already hit the coalition server. Blackwater should be receiving it any second now,”_ Meryn said through the phone.

“Ok, going in. Let me know if there’s any upsets.” Joffrey hung up and walked inside the bar. Officially, he hadn’t been invited, but he knew enough of the men in attendance to be offered a seat when they saw him. Blackwater didn’t seem to mind, or even care. He was having too much fun doing karaoke in front of the rest of the bar. Joffrey started recording with his phone. It was in the middle of his drunken rendition of “I Will Always Love You” (dedicated to the faerie slut, of course) and was being filmed “for posterity” by the hideous giant when the email alerts started pouring in. Nearly all the phones went off in rapid succession, only a few were on silent, and a silence fell over the previously rambunctious crowd. Then the whispers began. Blackwater was oblivious until someone went up to the stage to whisper in Blackwater’s ear, another hideous man, but this one Joffrey had the misfortune to be related to. Blackwater’s face turned various shades of red and purple before he stormed out. The hideous giant looked confused, but followed Blackwater after a few moments.

Joffrey smiled to himself and sent a text to Meryn.

**J: Success**

**********

Bronn sat on the wooden railing of the bar’s outdoor patio, his phone in his hand, staring at the video of what looked like Margie being vigorously and _enjoyably_ fucked by another man in security footage from the compound. The video was slightly grainy and dark, he was really drunk with slightly blurred vision, and it was hard to make out the woman’s face, but there were enough details to make her identifiable _and_ he recognized her outfit. It was a dress he had bought her only a week ago, as an engagement gift, and one he knew she was wearing tonight.

“Bronn, what’s wrong?” Sandor asked, approaching him like he would a frightened or angry animal. Bronn supposed he was a little of both right now.

“You check your email?”

Sandor shook his head. “Was filming you so I could show Margaery what a dope you are for her. Thought she might get a kick out of it.”

Tyrion appeared from behind Sandor, “It would seem that a video of the lovely bride has gone viral. It doesn’t name names, but it does insinuate and it is quite damning.”

“What the hell does it show?” Sandor demanded.

Bronn answered, standing up and saying angrily, “Shows that I was a _bloody fool._ She cheated on me, _fucked_ some asshole while wearing the dress I bought her to celebrate our engagement. _I_ was going to fuck her while she wore that dress, make her curl her toes and scream my name. Now…” He went silent, then threw his phone against the brick wall of the bar with all his might, letting out a hoarse scream. Both Tyrion and Sandor winced. Bronn collapsed into the beach chair next to him. His voice fell to just above a whisper, his spirit crushed, “How could she do this to me? She told me she _loved_ me, that she only wanted me…” It occurred to him that he might be drunker than he had realized, but the pain he felt was real.

“Well, that fan just got fuckin’ _assaulted_ by the shit. Right, then,” he heard Sandor say. He looked up to see his friend calling someone. “Brienne, sorry to be a bother, I need a favor. What’s that bloke’s name that does the computer stuff? The witch that worships the frog goddess? Right, can you send me his number as well? Thanks. Oh, are you with the bachelorette party? Oh, sorry, yeah. Thanks again.” He hung up, “She’s on shift right now, couldn’t make it to the party. I’ll, um, I’ll try calling one of the other women in a bit.”

Bronn wasn’t sure, but he thought the big scary Hound had just blushed. _I’m drunk, it’s dark, probably hallucinating._ Tyrion had left, but returned shortly with a pitcher and a glass of ice. “Water, you need to sober up, my friend,” he said, pouring Bronn a glass.

Sandor called another number, “Hi, is this Jojen Reed? This is Sandor Clegane, I got your number from Brienne Tarth-Lannister. Yeah, well, I need a bit of help. There’s a video circulating, you might have gotten it in your email...yeah, that’s the one. I need you to see if you can dissect it, find out if it’s real or not. I'll owe you one-- Oh, yeah, sure, I can do that. Call me back at this number once you have something. It’s imperative that you do this right now. Thanks.”

“He already ask for something in return?” Tyrion asked.

Sandor just stared at his phone, “Yeah, wants me to put in a good word for him with Bran. Huh. Did not know. Anyway, as soon as he calls back, we’ll have an idea on what to do.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I have to...stop...have to...the wedding…” Bronn felt like puking. Maybe it was all the beer he drank. He was not normally a pukey drunk, nor was he particularly sentimental, so that couldn’t be it. Had to be sour beer. Yeah, that was it. He let his head fall back onto the back of the beach chair with a _thunk_ , embracing the pain.

“Bronn,” Tyrion patted his hand, “Margaery loves you. I seriously doubt she would cheat on you. That video...I just can _not_ believe it’s really her.”

“Who else can it be? Someone who just _happens_ to bear a striking resemblance to Margie, and just _happens_ to own the exact same dress?” Bronn said, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe it either, but...what other explanation is there? Please, anything…”

Sandor’s phone rang. “Clegane. Hey, Reed, that was fast. I knew you were good, but I didn’t realize _how_ good. It is? Damn. Oh...really? Wait, are you sure? Yeah, I vaguely recall that. Yeah. Yeah. Thanks, man. I will definitely be singing your praises. Keep this to yourself, though. At least until we find who did it. Yeah. Thanks again.”

“What did Jojen say?” Tyrion asked hesitantly. Bronn was holding his breath. It didn’t seem like good news, but it had ended positively.

“Good news and bad news. Bad first, the video is one hundred percent real. _Good news,_ ” he said, before Bronn could try to react, “it’s not Margaery in it. Jojen has been working on a side project for better facial recognition. He ran the program on a still from the video. He doesn’t know who it is, but he knows it’s not Margaery. If he gets a hit, he’ll let us know, but I think what he’s told us is enough for now. More bad news, he couldn’t trace the source of the video link. Anonymous servers or some shit like that. He’s going to keep trying, but for now, it’s a dead end.”

“Fuck me…” Bronn whispered. “I almost called off my wedding because of a fucking _coincidence_.” He saw the look exchanged between Tyrion and Sandor. “What?”

“Bronn, I don’t…” Tyrion began. “I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“What?”

“Drink some more water and sober the fuck up, man, before we have this discussion,” Sandor said. “I have to make one more call.” Bronn got a glimpse of Sandor’s phone. _Who the hell is ‘little bird’?_

**********

Grenn and Pyp would not stop playing with their flashlights. Dolorous Edd sighed heavily as he followed them along. Jon and Sam had been nice and offered to go with them to patrol, but Grenn had insisted that they wait until the following night. “Let us get acquainted with the compound first, and tomorrow we will patrol together.”

“Oh of course he would tell them that.” Edd sighed to himself. “Now it is on me to be in charge, as senior officer from the Watch. Is such my lot in life? What have I done to deserve this?”

Merry singing reached their ears. Merry _drunken_ singing. Even a bit of speaking. “Oh, let’s eavesdrop!” Pyp suggested. Grenn and Edd shrugged their shoulders and the three rounded the two men speaking, staying hidden.

“You’re quite cheery,” the first and less drunken man said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’ quite so loudly or in so many repetitions before.”

“Why shouldn’t I be cheerful?” the second man asked. “I have earned a thousand gold dragons from Butthurt Baratheon! For doing what, you ask?”

“I didn’t…”

“For slandering, or is it libelling? FOR LYING about the pretty, pretty faerie princess. Her human _lovered_ has been _discrased_ and will dump her like day old moldy bread.”

“Uh, do you mean human _lover_ and _disgraced_? Maybe you should ease off the booz--”

“Your _face_ needs to lay off the boozers, _OAKHEART.”_ The man fell into a peal of giggles. “I hear it’s not just your heart that is a mighty oak!”

Oakheart sighed. “Trant...seriously? Dick jokes?”

“Your face is a dick. What whas I saying? Oh, yes, faerie cunt. Ah, I wish I had been able to secure an faerie to play the role of the pretty pretty princess, but noooooo. I could only find a human girl who looks enough like the princy princy prettiness to pass for her in low light.” Trant burst into giggles again. “Oh, but her cunt was sweet, for a human. I dressed her up like the princy-ness and made sure to fuck her well in front of one of the security cameras. Then later, I downloaded the video to a serve securer. I mean a securer serve. THEN,” high pitched squealing giggles, “THEN I uploaded it through an anonymous link to the web and emailed it from several co-workers personal email accounts, and THEN it just spread like wildfire from there. The council will have nooooooooo choice but to withdraw their approval of this farce of a marriage. I hear faeries are a good lay. Maybe the princey preetiness will have a lay with me.” He laughed and snorted at his attempt at a joke.

“He speaks of treason against the council!” whispered Grenn.

“Halt and stand, villains!” cried Pyp, jumping out from his hiding place. “You are under arrest in the name of the council!”

Oakheart went peaceably, but Trant fought (badly). Edd ended up taking a hard elbow to his eye. _Of course I did, for I am Dolorous Edd._

“Patrol five to base, patrol five to base, come in base! Over,” Pyp said into their walkie-talkie.

_“Base here. What is it, patrol five? Over.”_

“Sir, we have apprehended some suspects. They need to be questioned and processed. Over.”

_“For cryin’ out-- It is two-FUCKING-thirty in the morning. Just take them to the security offices and lock them up in the jail cells. I’ll deal with them in the morning. Jaime OUT.”_

**********

Margaery was having a blast at “mess the dress” paint ball. She had managed to beat everyone, except Sansa and Arya, but considering they had been recruited for an elite task force, she considered her third place to be first place. They were returning their gear and getting their stuff back when Sansa’s phone started ringing. Margaery caught a glimpse of the screen before Sansa snatched it up and answered it, “Stud” was the nickname displayed. _Oh,_ she thought, slightly disappointed. _I was hoping she and Sandor…_  

“Hey,” Sansa said, a little breathless. “Someone harassing you about your sleeves after all? Oh. Oh! Uh, no, we’ve been away from our phones. Oh, gods, seriously?! Yeah, sure, where? Oh, well, I have a place. Bronn knows it. Just tell him the ‘the place where Lady rests,’ and he’ll know it. Anything we need to bring? Ok, see you soon.” She hung up and threw her phone in her purse. “We have to go, _now.”_

“What? But…”

Sansa grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the building. “Arya!”

“What up, sister boss?” She popped up out of nowhere, startling Margaery.

“We have a situation. Make an excuse to the rest of the girls, then get to Lord Mace, take him to my safehouse. Lady Olenna too, if she’s there. Leave anyone else behind. It might be nothing, but I do _not_ want to take any chances. Tell them to keep calm and _not do anything rash._ Make that clear to them, by any means necessary. Now, go.”

“Aye, aye!” In a flash, Arya was gone.

“Sansa, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Margaery asked as they got to Sansa’s bike. Sansa handed her a helmet, donning her own.

“I’ll tell you when we get there. Let’s go.” Sansa strapped her helmet on and lowered her goggles over her eyes.

The ride was actually quite pleasant, despite the gnawing feeling in her stomach. They were the first to arrive at the little house. “This is your place?” Margaery asked.

“Yeah. I come here when I’m in a pinch or need some space. Haven’t really needed it for the past few years, but I do try to keep it maintained. Come on, we can talk inside.” Sansa guided the motorcycle to the back of the house, then let them both in through the back door.

“Sansa, what’s going on? Why all the secrecy?” Margaery asked desperately.

“Here, sit, I’ll make some tea and explain.” She sat at the island counter and watched Sansa move around the small kitchen, gathering the stuff she needed for tea. “It’s not good, and maybe we’re overreacting with the secrecy, but better safe than sorry, right?” Margaery nodded weakly. “So, apparently, there’s a video circulating online. It...it’s of a woman who looks a lot like you, having sex with a guy who is very much not Bronn. I don’t know much else, other than Bronn had a bit of a freak out about it.” She held out her phone. “Here, I don’t know if you want to see it or not… Sandor had someone send me the video file.”

She took the phone from Sansa and pressed play. Margaery couldn’t respond as she watched the video, her pulse seemed to slow as Sansa continued.

“Sandor will be able to tell you more once he and Bronn get here.” She was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Stay here.”

Margaery couldn’t move if she wanted to. Her limbs felt cold. _She...she looks like me...That’s my dress...my hairstyle...my body type... How? Why? I’ve only ever been with Bronn...and we haven’t...oh gods…_ Strong, warm arms embraced her from behind. She felt the life return to her body.

“Margie, I’m so sorry,” Bronn whispered in her ear. “Please forgive me?”

“Bronny? For what?” She turned to face him and return the embrace.

“For doubting you, for even a second. I’m so sorry.” He looked so pitiful, she couldn’t bring herself to blame him even if she wanted to.

“Oh...Bronny. I saw the video. I believed it for a split second as well, and I haven’t been drinking as much as you have. You tend to be a sad drunk, you know, at least when you’re not around me.” She kissed him lightly. “I forgive you, though I didn’t even blame you.”

He didn’t seem to feel any better, so she hugged him tightly, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. An aura out of the corner of her eye caught her notice. _Sansa...and Sandor...they’re...oh my gods. They’re happy? They’re happy! Friends now! Maybe more!_ It was faint, tentative, but they were both enshrouded in a light yellow glow as they talked in hushed tones, giving Bronn and Margaery their privacy. Another knock at the door. Sansa went to answer it, and soon came back with Lady Olenna and Arya.

“Sorry, sister boss,” Arya was saying. “But Lady Olenna insisted that Lord Mace stay behind.”

“That doddering old fool wouldn’t be much help in this situation. Loras told me what happened. He’s keeping your father in the dark for the time being. Margaery, is that...is that you? In the video, I mean?” The Queen of the Faeries looked much older as she asked.

“No, grandmother, it is not.” She turned to Bronn and placed her hand on his cheek. “I could never betray my beloved.”

“Good. Unfortunately, that can only mean one thing.” Suddenly with a slight bounce in her step, her grandmother was walking over to the kitchen table.

“What does it mean?” Bronn asked, taking a seat next to Margaery at the island counter.

“It means that someone was trying to set you up,” Sansa explained. “Yours will be the first major wedding since the coalition formed. We’ve had smaller ones, but they’ve been between humans and non-humans of...well, insignificant names, sad to say. The marriage of a _Tyrell_ to a human, however, that’s big news, something that can be used to further human and non-human relations. If Margaery was proven unfaithful, and you set her aside because of it, it could potentially start a war.”

Sandor took over, “Jojen Reed has been tracking the video. It’s been less than an hour since the video went online, but he’s been able to shut down the original video link as well any other postings of it and is tracing it back to where it came from, but it’s...it doesn’t look good. He’s also running diagnostics on the video itself, trying to find this woman. The man never faces the camera…”

“Wait, never?” Sansa asked. Sandor shook his head. “Let me see it.” Margaery handed over the phone that still had the video on it. She studied the video with her enhanced vision. Margaery always found it fascinating to see Sansa’s eyes go nearly black when she did that. She played it a few times before saying, “He knows where the camera is. This is taken from one of the _hidden_ security cameras, look, you can tell by the high angle and the location, and _he knows where it is.”_

“What does _that_ mean?” Margaery asked.

“Means they likely work for the coalition,” Sandor supplied. “Possibly even the security team, but Lannister is fairly lax on who’s able to come and go into the screening room, so it could be anyone with clearance to the main building.”

“What are we going to do? What _can_ we do?” Bronn asked.

“Set a trap and capture the son of a whore. I would think that was obvious,” Olenna said. “We send out two messages. One official, the wedding is cancelled or maybe just postponed. One unofficial, a secret wedding, same time, different place, being blessed by the council, with a grand announcement for the following day. We’ll dangle some bait tomorrow. I’ll leave that part to you, Ms. Stark. Theoretically, this will draw the scoundrel out, and if it doesn’t, at least you still get your wedding.”

“Best plan we’ve got,” Sandor said with a shrug. Olenna nodded and tottered off back to the door after giving Margaery a kiss goodbye. Arya followed. Once Grandmama had made a decision, she acted swiftly.

“Margaery, you and Bronn can stay here.” Sansa handed her the keys. “No hanky-panky though,” she said with a wink. “Sandor and I will come by for you in the morning.”

“We will?” he asked. Margaery thought he might be surprised that Sansa was teaming them up, but since she could only read his aura, it might have just been from being volunteered.

“Yes, you will come pick Bronn up and take him to get ready, while I will bring everything Margaery will need to get ready,” she said patiently. Softer, she said, “You’re the best man, after all.”

 _Double meaning in that!_ Margaery thought with triumph.

“Why can’t you just bring my stuff with Margaery’s?” Bronn asked. Margaery loved him, she really did, but right now she wanted to punch him.

“Oh, um, I suppose I could…” Sansa began.

“Bad luck,” Sandor interrupted. “To see the bride before the wedding, I mean. Should probably take you away now.”

“No, no, I’m good with leaving in the morning?” Bronn asked tentatively.

“I’ll leave my truck here with you, just in case. Uh, Stark, can I get a ride back to the compound?” Margaery was thrilled to see Sandor’s aura turn light pink from shyness.

“Sure.” She gave him an equally shy smile before she turned back to Bronn and Margaery, “There’s some food in the fridge, mostly frozen meals, but you won’t go hungry. See you two tomorrow.”

Margaery was ready to crow by the time she and Bronn were left alone.

**********

Two emails held his attention. The first had filled him with glee.

 **From: Management** **  
** **TO: ‘Employee List’** **  
** **Subject: Blackwater-Tyrell Wedding Postponed** **  
** **To All Employees,** **  
** **The wedding of Bronn Blackwater and Margaery Tyrell has been postponed until further notice, pending investigation of the video circulated earlier this evening. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the bride and groom, as well as to their family and friends.** **  
** **Sincerely, The Council of the Human-Monster Coalition**

The second email, however, filled him with rage.

 **From: ‘M. Baratheon’** **  
** **To: ‘T. Martell’;** **  
** **CC: ‘T. Baratheon’; ‘J. Baratheon’; ‘C. Baratheon’; ‘R. Baratheon’; ‘R. Stark’; ‘J. Poole’; ‘T. Greyjoy’; Subject: RE: FWD: Wedding still on!!!!** **  
** **OMG, does anyone know where this is happening?? I want to see this! It’s so terribly ROMANTIC! And I’m sure that video was faked or coerced somehow! Margaery is sooooo sweet and loves Mr. Blackwater sooooo much, she’d never cheat on him. I got the same email message from like 7 different people. Everyone is totally supporting them!**

 **\-----Begin Forwarded Message---** **  
** **‘T. Martell’ wrote:** **  
** **Myrcella, did you see this yet?**

 **> ‘A. Martell’ wrote:** **  
** **> Someone posted this on the coalition’s forums! <3 **

**> “Unknown”:** **  
** **> Rumor has it that the wedding is still on! Same time, just different locale. Blackwater doesn’t care if ** **  
** **> she’s been with another man or 100 other men, he still wants to marry her!! The council will make the ** **  
** **> official announcment after the wedding is done, so whoever posted that awful vid won’t try anything ** **  
** **> else. LOVE RULLES ALL!!!!**

Joffrey picked up his phone and called Meryn for the fifth time. Still no answer. _Well, I can just do this myself._


	8. Waffles Es Penguinos

For such a dainty looking bird, she rode a rather mean looking motorcycle. His face felt frozen by the time they arrived back at the compound, though his body was more than a bit warm from having been pressed up against hers. He had at least tried to conceal his erection for the majority of the ride, though whether or not he had been successful was debatable. She hadn’t mentioned it, but she was too polite to point it out even if she had noticed.

He handed back the helmet she had lent him. “So, in all the ruckus over how Margaery and Bronn were taking this, I didn’t get to ask you, how are you doing?” He swung his leg over the vehicle to dismount.

“I’ve been better,” she whispered and wiped at her eyes. “It will be a while until I no longer feel like this, I think. I couldn’t let her, let any of them, see me like this. Strong Sansa Stark, slayer of ghouls, whitewalkers, ghosts and the boogeyman, crying over an insult to her friend? Oh, but what an insult. Margaery is such a sweetheart. Why would someone purposely hurt her like this? Bronn, well, he does rub some people the wrong way,” Sandor laughed softly at that, “but Margaery...she goes out of her way to help everyone.”

“What can you do, that you haven’t already done?”

“I would be very indebted to anyone who could help me right this wrong. What is that line? ‘ Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!’ But I cannot ask another to exact my vengeance. When we find this son of a whore, I’m ripping him apart with my bare hands. Or draining him dry. I haven’t decided yet,” she said in a dark tone.

“Sansa...you cannot… If it’s a human who did it...” He trailed off, wanting to comfort her yet unsure of what to do.

“Then...if only I was a human…”

“Sansa,” he stared at her shoulders from behind, “another human can take your vengeance for you.”

“Yes, but there is no one who would. It is not your burden. There is no reason it should be.” Her shoulders had slumped.

_ Now! Just tell her already! _ “ There is nothing in this world that I love more than you. Isn’t that strange?” he asked her. His voice was higher than normal.

Her back stiffened and she turned her head every so slightly, though he could not see her full profile. “No stranger than me loving you, but I will neither confess to nor deny such a statement. My heart weeps for what Margaery and Bronn are going through.” Her words and her voice were guarded. He snapped a bit, unable to hide the truth any longer.

“For fuck’s sake, girl, you love me. I know you do. I swear on my best sword that I love you, too,” he growled.

She turned to face him, her leg swinging over the handlebars and her cheeks reddened to a becoming blush. “Do not swear on your sword. In case you need to eat those words, your sword, your  _ best _ sword, will become nothing but chunks of metal.”

“I’ll swear that I  _ know  _ you love me.” He gripped her shoulders and stared into her light blue eyes. “I will make anyone who says I do not eat my sharpest sword.”

“You won’t take it back? You won’t deny your words?” she asked breathlessly, studying his face with care.

He gulped. “There is no taking back words like that. I swear, I love you,” he said in a quiet voice. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. “I denied it for too long already. I will not deny it again.”

“Then I must ask the gods forgiveness. I...I love you!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “With all my heart, I love you, there is no room for a denial.”

“Sansa,” he groaned. “Command me, I will do anything for you…”

Her eyes went wild, “Kill the human responsible for tonight’s mess.”

_ Shit… _ He hadn’t been thinking when he said those words, and certainly hadn’t expected her to ask him to do  _ that _ . “I can’t, not for the entire world.”

Her face became strained and she shoved him away. “You claim to love me, then deny my first request of you?”

“Sansa, I do love you, but you cannot ask this of me!” He grabbed her shoulders again. “It will tear apart everything the coalition stands for, think this through!”

“Let me go!” She shoved him away again, but he held on, embracing her as she began to cry. “If it was a human who did this, then I cannot go after them! They not only tried to ruin my friend and her happiness, but they are trying to ruin the work of the council! My father’s work! My work--” She stopped short and looked up at him. His heart nearly broke at the pain on her face. “Everything I’ve done for my  _ entire  _ fighting life has been so that humans and monsters could live together without fear. Everything I did this past year...was to make up for what my kind did to you. My commander thought I was crazy, requesting extra missions, but I had to. I  _ had _ to.” He felt her hands grip his jacket tightly, but he could not look away from her eyes. She held him with a power no other vampire could wield. “I can’t erase what happened to you, but I can make this a world where others won’t suffer the same as you. It is all I’ve ever wanted, and even more so since I met you.”

“Sansa…you could just glamour me, command me to do it,” he said. It pained him to say it, but he felt he should point it out. She could glamour him to kill every last human on earth, and he would still love her.

“I could...but I wouldn’t,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that. I would have to stab myself, right in the heart, if I ever did that to you.”

“That would be a shame,” he said, “You have a lovely pair of breasts and you would be depriving the world of them if you stabbed yourself.”

“I would aim for the middle, so as not to ruin them, then,” she retorted, but the edge in her voice was gone. Quoting movies she liked tended to have a calming effect on her, he had noticed. She was limp in his arms, clinging to him like she would fall away to nothingness if she let go.

“Do you really believe so strongly in this as to kill a human?” he asked, rubbing his hand slowly on her back. “To go against your core beliefs?”

“It’s not against my core beliefs to kill anyone who endangers the fragile peace we have. Whoever did this, they weren’t doing it on a lark. They purposely attempted to stir up trouble on a large scale, opportunistic as it may be,” she said, nuzzling his chest. 

“Then...I’ll do it.”

She pushed away enough to look up at him, “What??”

“I’ll do it. If it’s a human, I’ll kill them, on your word, when we find them. Ok?” he asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She was looking at him in disbelief. “If you believe that strongly, then that’s enough for me. Now, wipe your tears, and go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. We won’t speak of this again until we find the bastard.” She nodded and gave him a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. After covering her motorcycle, they walked to the dormitories together in silence. They lived on the same floor, but in different wings.

“You’re not going to ask if you can join me?” she asked when he kissed her cheek goodnight.

“Would you want me to? I mean, do you want me to join you?” His heart was beating loudly again. He wondered if she could hear it.

“I do, but the day has tired me out more than I care to admit. If you don’t mind  _ just  _ sleeping, you’re welcome in my bed tonight.” She looked up at him shyly. 

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ll go grab some things from my room, maybe take a shower as well.” He was well aware he stank of a bar.

“Ok, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand before walking off. 

He headed to his own room, making a mental note to jerk off in the shower.  _ Last thing I want is to scare her when all she needs right now is a cuddle. _ He suddenly remembered how she felt pressed against him as she told him she loved him.  _ Might need to do it twice. _

**********

The hot water and soap cleared her mind. She felt refreshed, though still tired, when she emerged from the shower. Sandor wasn’t there yet. Toweling her hair, she quickly found a fresh pair of panties and her favorite sleeping shirt. After a quick thought, she also pulled on pajama bottoms.  _ Probably shouldn’t give him an eyeful if I mean to keep to the “just sleeping” bit. There’s teasing, and then there’s being a cocktease. _

The scent of lemonade and cinnamon hit her nose a few seconds before she heard a knock at her door. She opened the door and found him looking nervous. His hair was still wet, but not dripping at least. He looked comfy and deliciously sexy in his white t-shirt and slightly snug sweatpants. “Come on in,” she said softly. He put down his bag as she shut and locked the door behind him.

“Brought a change of clothes. Also arranged for Bronn’s good suit to be taken to the sept. It’s in the groom’s suite.” He took off his shirt and allowed himself to be pushed down on to the bed. Sansa turned off the light before settling in next to him.

Sleep was already tugging at her. She yawned and said, “Margaery’s dress is in the bride’s suite already, and I called to arrange a patrol around the sept. Jon and Sam were free and happy to do it. They’ll patrol the entire sept, inside and out. Jon’s going to stay in his Ghost form, so he can pick up scents better.”

“I thought he was a werewolf like your sister?”  _ Ahhh, his voice is so rumbly, _ she thought happily.

“He is. He calls his shifted form Ghost, because he had white fur and red eyes. It’s really unusual, but considering his dad is a dragon, it might be the cause of the abnormality. He used to hate it, but now he loves it.” She snuggled against him. The lemonade was being overtaken by the cinnamon in his scent and it was lulling her to sleep.

“Makes sense...scents...you mentioned cheesy lemonade the other day?” he asked, nearly half-asleep himself.

She nodded against his chest. “Did I never tell you? You smell like lemonade with a dash of cinnamon. You were covered in powdered cheese, so it was cheesy lemonade, couldn’t even smell the cinnamon. Not a...nice...smell...but now...” Her eyes, already mostly closed, shut completely as she drifted into sleep.

**********

Sandor woke slowly, resisting as much as possible. He was having a fantastic dream, better than usual. He had just finished off a pack of wendigo in a lush forest by himself. Sansa came marching up to him in nothing but her nameday suit and pushed him up against a tree. The dream usually stopped right after she started nibbling at his neck and drinking from him. Right now, however, Sansa had defied gravity as one can do in a dream, crawled up onto him and was rubbing against him, begging him to take her. His pants had slipped down and he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, so he was able to feel her wetness coating his cock. It felt so good, so real…

His eyes flew open. It felt  _ too _ real. Sansa was on top of him, moaning and rocking slowly against him. He felt the familiar tug in his nether region.  _ Shit, I’m about to cum. _ He gripped her hips to help her grind against him as he ejaculated.

Sansa was moaning his name, like in his dream, still moving her hips against his slowly softening member. “Sandor, gods yes, just like that…ah...Ahh AHHH!” She stiffened slightly as her orgasm overtook her and then she collapsed against him.

“Well, that was a nice way to wake up,” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She shifted lazily against him.

“Waffles es penguinos,” she muttered.  _ Spanish? _

“What? Sansa?” He took a closer look at her and wanted to smack himself. It was too funny. She was still asleep! Carefully, he rolled her off of him. She grumbled at that, but he now had a mess to clean up and he’d rather do it before she woke up. His sweatpants had slipped (or possibly been pushed) down. Her pajama bottoms had been discarded and her panties had gone with them. 

He found a washcloth in her restroom. After wetting it, he cleaned himself off, rinsed it, secured his sweatpants, then went back to the bed to clean Sansa up. He left the washcloth on the edge of her shower before slipping back into bed. Sansa immediately rolled towards him. He poked the tip of her nose, amused that she would twitch it like a bunny or a cat and that she took ten minutes to wake up from it.

Her eyes slowly opened. “Morn’n,” she said in a happy/sleepy voice.

“Morning. Feel better?” he asked. She nodded, still with a dreamy smile on her face. “I’ll bet. You attacked me this morning. Not that I’m complaining. I rather enjoyed it, but I was surprised.”

She frowned at him and looked at his neck. “I...attacked you?”

He laughed. “Not there. Again, I wouldn’t have complained if you did, but it was much lower.” Her gaze slid to his chest. “Lower.” She looked at his abs. “I like how much you blush when you’re staring at my  _ naked _ flesh.” More blushing.  _ She’s thinking about me naked! _ He grinned. “Lower.” Her gaze fell to his groin and then shot back up to his face, her hands covering her mouth.

“Oh gods...I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She looked like she was about to cry. He kissed her softly.

“No, little bird, you didn’t hurt me. It wasn’t with this mouth,” he touched his lips to hers. “It was with this one,” he slipped his hand down, his index finger sliding across her exposed slit, causing a sharp intake of breath.

**********

“Wh- where did my panties go?” she asked breathlessly. 

He grinned. “I think you took them off when you discarded your pajama bottoms in the night. I woke up to find you on top of me, having your  _ wicked  _ vampire way with me. Again,  _ not _ complaining.”

“Sandor,” she purred and leaned in to kiss him. 

_ “Incoming call! Incoming call!” _

“I will murder whoever that is,” she groaned and reached for her phone to answer it. “Hello?”

_ “Sansa! Where are you? I thought you were going to pick me up this morning?” _ Margaery said. 

She sat up straight.“Oh gods!” 

_ “It’s fine! Bronn brought me back to the compound in Sandor’s truck. I can meet you at the sept so you can do my hair and makeup, let’s say in an hour? You sound like you just woke up.” _

“Margaery, I forgot to set my alarm. I barely woke up a few minutes ago,” Sansa said in apology. She was trying really hard to ignore the light kisses Sandor was peppering her shoulder with.

_ “Ha ha! Figures. Like I said, it’s fine. Have you seen Sandor? Bronn went to go return his keys to him, but he wasn’t in his room.” _

“Margaery, I  _ just  _ woke up. How could I have  _ possibly  _ seen S- Clegane in that time?” she asked, trying to dodge the truth while Sandor pulled her between his legs to sit in front of him. The horrid man was nibbling at her neck in such an exquisite manner.

_ “Weeeeeellllllll, I thought maybe he would have been in your room, have a little ‘stress relief’ session. You two were quite cozy together last night.” _ Margaery dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

Sansa bit her lip, trying not to smile too hard about Margaery’s statement, and also trying not to moan from Sandor’s ministrations. 

“Marg, I’m looking around the room right now. I do not see anybody else, much less that warrior Bronn calls his friend,” Sansa said truthfully. It was hard to see him, but oh boy, could she  _ feel _ him. He was radiating warmth. His skin felt velvety against hers, even the parts covered in hair, which was a lot. His calloused fingers were tracing invisible lines up and down her arms. She felt his strength most of all, the taut coil that lay within him. Oh, that he would soon unleash it on her! Preferably once she hung up with Margaery, but she was already running late.

_ “Fine, fine. He’s probably out for a run or something and forgot his duties for today. We were all pretty tired last night. See you in an hour!” _ Margaery hung up before Sansa could say goodbye.

Sansa tossed her phone aside and turned so that she was kneeling in front of Sandor. “You’re horrible,” she said. He only grinned at her, twisting his scars in that irritatingly adorable manner of his. “You better only be horrible like that to me,” she growled playfully.

“Only you, I swear,” he said.

“And I only to you, I swear,” she whispered before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. His tongue slipped into her mouth, just as his phone rang. Unlike his howling text message alert, the call alert was quite normal, just a simple ringing. “Ignore it,” she whispered, still kissing him. He fumbled for his phone to silence it. Sansa grinned at him and pushed him onto his back. “Good boy. You get a reward.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she said pulling off her shirt. “You think I couldn’t feel you poking me just now? You have a problem,  _ sir, _ and I aim to make sure it’s resolved before we walk our friends down the aisle.”

“No foreplay then?” 

She was stroking his cock gently, it was already pretty damn hard. “We’ve had a year of foreplay. Do you really think you need any more at this moment?” After his sweet caresses, she was very wet and throbbing with need, and did  _ not _ want wait any longer than she had to.

“S’pose not,” he said. “I…uh, I brought some condoms. Just in case… They’re in my bag.”

“Very good boy, then,” she said, kissing him and reaching into his bag. She tore into the foil and rolled the latex down, stroking him as she did so. She slid easily onto his cock, eliciting a gasp from her as she felt much more filled by him than she had originally thought she would be.  _ Oh gods, he feels good! _

“Oh, fuck me, you’re tight,” he groaned. She grinned and rolled her hips, easing herself up and down on his shaft. She was already halfway to climaxing, when he gripped her hips tightly. “Oh, fuck. Stop! Or else I’m going to...too soon...”

She had always thought that if a man came too quickly, it was a bad thing, but... she felt a bit flattered, even powerful. He had just orgasmed earlier when she apparently humped in her sleep, so the second time should last longer, if any of the stories Myranda and Mya told were true. Hence, she was flattered. “Need a moment, then?” She may or may not have been smirking.

**********

“Bloody hell, woman, you’re too much of a good thing,” he said. Only a minute inside of her and he felt like he was going to go right over the cliff already. That’s when his phone started ringing again. “Fuck. It’s Bronn. Just gonna silence it again…” She snatched the phone from him. “What the fuck are you doing.” 

She grinned and slide the touchscreen to answer. She held it to his good ear. She mouthed,  _ Go on, say hello _ . 

He glared at her. His hands were on her waist. He knew he deserved it after what he had done while she was on the phone with Margaery, but still! “‘Lo?”

_ “Where the hell are you, man? I’ve been looking for you.” _

“Sorry, got busy.”  _ At least it doesn’t look like she’s taking her revenge the way I would have, _ he thought. He definitely would have made it hard for her to talk to her friend if their positions were reversed. Granted, she looked far too smug as she held the phone for him, but was it weird that that worked for him? Her tits were just within reach, framed by her auburn hair falling loosely over her shoulders, and he debated on fondling them while he talked to Bronn, but he was already fighting the instinct to take her.

_ “Are you out running? You sound a little winded. I can meet you if you’re on your usual path.” _

“Uh, no, not on the usual path. I-- Bloody fucking hells!” He gasped as Sansa shifted slightly from her perch on his cock. Her eyes widened in surprise, meaning she hadn’t meant it, but she had inadvertently squeezed him when she moved. It was wonderful and torturous at the same moment, and his hips arched up into her involuntarily, causing her to gasp. He needed to move, to thrust, to claim her right at that moment.  _ Traitorous body! _ His grip on her hips stabilized her as he fucked her, her other hand shooting out to grab the bed for extra balance.

_ “What happened? You ok?!” _ Bronn really was a good friend, even if he had dickish moments. He didn’t deserve to be forced to hear Sandor having sex. Mostly didn’t deserve it, anyway.

“I’m fine,” he huffed, his thrusts into Sansa causing her to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud. “Hanging up now. I’ll call you when I have a moment.” He grabbed the phone from Sansa’s hand and hit the disconnect button, then threw the phone to the side. He flipped their positions so that he was now on top and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Oh gods, yes,” she cried, as he fucked her hard. He could feel her cunt squeezing him, she was ready to peak. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, pushing her arms against the bed, allowing him to go as deep as possible and giving him a great view of her. She was too far away though. He slid his hands under her, still on his knees, and lifted her up so that they were face to face. “Miss me, stud?” she panted, wrapping her arms around his neck and taking over the movement. She kissed him deeply and he felt her fangs with his tongue.

He groaned and exposed his throat to her. “If...if you want...you can…” He wasn’t sure quite how to phrase it. Her eyes went a little wide and she nodded. Her hips hadn’t lost speed and he felt his balls tighten. She sank her fangs into his throat right as his climax hit him. He wasn’t sure if it was her, the bite or a mix of the two, but he came harder than he expected. He felt and heard Sansa orgasm a few heartbeats after, milking his sensitive cock for all it was worth. If he died in the next hour, he knew it would be as a happy man.

They fell back to the bed together, breathing heavily. Sansa licked at the wound she had created. He felt a slight tingle and immediately touched the spot when she abandoned it. There was no mark whatsoever. He looked at her questioningly. “I gave you a few drops of my blood. Sort of a cure all. It healed the marks my fangs left,” she explained. “As much as I like knowing you have been marked by me, I’m not looking forward to the ‘I told you so’ I’m going to get from Margaery.” She sighed heavily and looked at him with longing and remorse. “Speaking of the bride, I should get ready to go meet her. I’d much rather stay here and explore,” she trailed a finger across a rather long scar he had acquired when battling a rabid werewolf, “but maid of honor duty calls. Would...would you like to come back this evening?” she asked shyly. “I would like that, if you do.”

He shivered under her touch. “I would very much like to come back here this evening.”

“Ok,” she whispered happily, then reached up to the shelf above her bed. She pulled down a chain with a black key on it. It was a little dusty. “Um, here, it’s the extra key to my room. You can just let yourself in if I’m not here.” She blushed a bright red and eased him off of her. She sat up and turned away from him. He would have normally taken it as a rejection, except he saw the blush creeping down her neck and across those delicate shoulders. He remembered what Arya had said about Sansa not dating much and realized she was probably feeling awkward about the situation and out of her depth. He understood that feeling. He crawled behind her and embraced her, touching his chin to her burning red skin.

“I’ll take good care of the key,” he whispered and kissed her lightly behind her ear.

“Ok,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I mean, good. You lose it, and you will paying for the replacement lock.”

“Could just move you into my room,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“I’m supposed to be getting ready to meet Margaery,” she said weakly, but she leaned back into him.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t actually sorry. “I’ll stop, but I get to explore thoroughly later on, deal?” She nodded. He hated to do it, but he pushed her gently towards the closet so she could get dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut alert!! Oh, probably should have put that in the beginning. Heh. (I'm in a weird mood.)


	9. Your Perfect Imperfections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([All Of You](https://youtu.be/xwsYvBYZcx4)) If you want to hear the song that is used in this chapter. :)  
> 

Bronn had been a mess. Jeyne was put in charge of doing his hair, but kept swatting his hand as he wanted to run it through his carefully combed and somewhat tamed locks.

“You look like a junkie mid-crash from an extreme high,” Sandor said, walking into the room.

“Here,” Jeyne handed him the brush, though Bronn noticed she avoiding looking at Sandor's face. “See if you can get him to calm down enough to do something with that mane,” she said before walking out the door.

“Nervous, then?” his friend asked, setting the brush aside and sitting on the available couch.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Bronn said, beginning to pace. “Not about the marrying bit. The whole ‘someone tried to ruin the happiest day of my life’ bit is what’s got me all stirred up, and not in a good way.” He looked over at his friend. He looked too calm. “Something’s off with you.”

Sandor frowned. “Is there? I swear I showered.”

“No, not with how you smell. Never mind. Maybe I should have gone for a run this morning too, probably would be less stressed right now.” Bronn sighed heavily, though he noticed Sandor went a little red at that.

“Uh, yeah, a good run would probably do you good, if it wasn’t two minutes before you walked down the aisle to claim your bride,” Sandor said, not meeting Bronn’s eyes. He was about to question him when the words sunk in.

“Shit, where’s the brush?” He found it before Sandor could answer. Standing in front of the mirror, he did the best he could, but his dark hair was as wild as his soul. “Best it’s gonna get. How do I look?”

“Like you’re ready. Now, go on. I’ll be patrolling the outside corridors with the maid of honor, and Wolf Stark, Snow and Tarly have outdoor duty. If that son of a whore comes after you today, we’ll get him.” Sandor waved his friend off. Bronn straightened his already straight tie and walked out of the groom’s suite to meet his future in-laws inside the sept.

**********

Margaery was pacing the bridal suite when Sansa finally got there. Jeyne had been there before dawn getting things ready. She had been one of the few people who hadn’t seen the video and was going forward as originally proposed.

Margaery narrowed her eyes at her friend, ready to lay into her for being so late, but then stopped. Sansa was rushing around, talking a mile a minute, apologizing every other sentence, and she was a _brilliant_ golden yellow. Her aura was nearly blinding actually, and also very calming. Margaery couldn’t find it in her heart to say anything remotely admonishing.

Soon, Margaery was dressed and her hair and makeup done. “Oh my...oh my ohmy ohmy….”

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked, pulling the last curler from Margaery’s hair. They were in front of the full length mirror and Margaery looked beautiful in her traditional forest green strapless bridal gown. It was made to resemble foliage, leaving her back exposed. The skirt fell just a little past her knees, flowing like ferns in the wind. Flowers decorated her hair, cascading down her shoulders and her upper back. She wore nothing on her feet, except a circle of thin braided vines on her left ankle, a symbol of her unmarried status. Once she and Bronn were united, the band would be broken, and a new one, made of a single piece of obsidian, would be wrapped on her right wrist. Bronn would be given an obsidian ring, as a representation of his human customs and Margaery’s faerie ones.

“This is really happening. Like, it’s for real. I woke up single, but tonight I will go to bed married. _Married!_ It’s just so surreal. I didn’t think I’d live long enough to get married,” Margaery said. Sansa laughed as they walked out of the bridal suite and to the main sanctuary room of the sept.

“Well, thank goodness you did. Bronn is a lucky man.” Sansa gave a final adjustment to the flowers in Margaery’s hair. “Now go on. Go get married. I’ll be outside, lurking for whoever the hell tried to ruin this day for you.”

Margaery gave her one last smile before walking down the aisle to where Bronn, Mace, Olenna, the septon and the faerie high elder stood.

**********

Her ears twitched at every sound. Arya and Jon had shifted to their full wolf forms and were prowling around outside, while Sam kept an eagle eye on the area surrounding the sept from a nearby building, monitoring radar, thermal scans, and visuals. Sansa and Sandor were inside the building, but outside of the main sept hall. Jaime and Brienne were standing as family for Bronn inside the sept, and were the last defense for the bride and her non-combat family members. Pod was up in the balcony, filming the entire thing for posterity. He would be relatively safe up there, should anything go down. He was a capable warrior and would someday be as good as herself, but currently he was of moderate skill. If the opponent they faced was of her or even just Sandor’s level, Pod wouldn’t stand a chance. She tried not to think about that. Instead, she breathed in the fresh air, pushing all negative thoughts from her wolfish mind.

Arya loved going into her Nymeria form. Scents and sounds were so much more vivid, though sights and colors were a bit duller. A westerly wind ruffled her fur. Jon, Ghost, was downwind from her. She smelled it before it hit her, twisting away from the foul stench of the knockout gas, trying to not breathe deeply. She fell to the ground, trying to keep her breath shallow as she saw Jon run towards her and was hit by it full on. He fell into unconsciousness before he reached her. She heard the squawk of Jon’s radio from where it was attached to the collar on his neck.

_“Ghost! What happened?! Alert! All agents in the sept, Ghost and Nymeria are down, I repeat, Ghost and Nymeria are down! Over.”_

Arya struggled to move, but she couldn’t even twitch her nose. _At least I stayed awake._

 _“Black Maester, report, are they hurt? Over.”_ Sansa’s voice.

 _“No, looks like they’re only unconcious. No signs of gunshots or anything else, possibly gassed. Over.”_ The gods blessed them all when they gave Samwell Tarly a brain. Arya counted herself fortunate to have him as a lookout. His mind was quick, his logic sound and his knowledge vast. The high powered binoculars and scanning equipment helped a lot as well, considering where he was viewing them from.

 _“Any movement? Over.”_ The Hound’s voice.

_“None-- Wait, there’s something...looks like...someone’s headed your way. They’re cloaked, but their feet are completely visible. Not an agent then. Possibly a civilian who got a hold of our gear? Over.”_

Arya heard the footsteps approaching, then a whiff of their scent as they ran past her. _Joffrey Baratheon!_ She tried to growl, but the paralysis was still a long way from wearing off.

**********

Sansa stood with her back to the door. She didn’t need to see the door to know that someone had opened it as quietly as possible, which honestly wasn’t that quiet. They were rubbish at being covert, whoever it was. She let them get as far as sneaking up behind her before spinning and grabbing the cloak off of them. “Joffrey?!”

He sprayed her with the knockout gas, but the cannister was near empty and she didn’t get a full dose. She fell to the floor, coughing hard as her body tried to rid itself of the fumes. She could still see what was going on, as if the gas she had inhaled had also slowed down time. She saw Sandor turn the corner. She saw Joffrey pull out a handgun, semi-automatic, standard issue for all field agents. Another item he must have swiped. She saw him raise it. She saw the safety disabled and the trigger pulled. She screamed, or at least she tried to. Sandor was already diving for cover. _Please let it miss! Oh gods, not now! Don’t take him away now!_ She saw another body hurtling towards Joffrey. Time sped back to normal as Pod tackled Joffrey to the ground. Sandor was already upon them, kicking the gun from Joffrey’s hand. Pod handcuffed Joffrey, allowing Sandor to rush to Sansa’s side.

“Little bird, did your wings get clipped?” he asked quietly as he picked her up. She couldn’t answer, and closed her eyes as her body leaned into his. “Pod, call this in to the council. Sam, you copy?”

_“Here, sir. Over.”_

“Any other intruders?”

_“Thermal scans and radar indicate no. Even cloaked, there would be some blip on the feed, now that I know what to look for. You’re all clear. Over.”_

“Call in some medics for the agents that are down. Add one more from inside, I’ll bring her to the others. Over and out.”

She felt safe in his arms.

“You ok in there?” he asked. She tried to give him a nod, but it was more than she could do. “Please, be ok, little bird. I can’t lose you now that I just found you again,” he whispered to her. _You won’t, at least, not because of this,_ she thought.

**********

Joffrey sat in the cell, fuming over his bad luck. The mangy wolves had been easy enough to deal with, the pretty bloodsucker went down quick, but it was his own kind that had fouled him up. Podrick Payne and Sandor Clegane, both had been working for his father when this travesty of a treaty emerged. Both had killed monsters, though Clegane was far more proficient at it, and now they had stopped him, the prince of the humans, from doing the same. His father and mother would definitely be hearing about this.

“You foolish boy,” a low voice said. "Do you realize the damage you might have done today?!" He looked up to see his grandfather staring at him from the other side of the bars. Joffrey’s cheeks burned at the reprimand.

“I was freeing our people from the stain that is those _creatures,”_ he hissed. “Isn’t that what our family is about?”

“You nearly cost _your people_ everything by trying to incite a war!” Tywin roared at him. “Your _family_ is the one who brokered the treaty. Your father saw the potential of this union, and moved to act on it. I, as head of the Lannister House, agreed with him, something that is not known to happen often. I don’t know where you got the idea that either the Baratheons or the Lannisters wanted to eradicate all of the non-humans, but we don’t.”

“Mother said--”

“Ah,” Tywin sneered. “Your _mother._ I should have known. Your mother has a personal vendetta against non-humans since before you were born. She blamed gremlins for the death of her mother, your grandmother, which was preposterous. She hates that it was a werewolf girl who ‘stole’ her perfect prince away from her, despite the fact that he never looked twice at her. She hates it even more that her twin loves his witch wife more than he loves her. Your _mother_ is touched in the head, boy, and it seems you’re a bit touched too if you’ve been listening to her drivel. I had hoped marrying Robert would help her, seeing how much he dotes on her, but your mother just spiraled slowly downward over the years. Did she tell you why she wasn’t coming to live on the compound, even though you, your siblings, your father all live here?”

“She never said. Father never mentioned it, but I knew. I _knew._ She didn’t want to live among the monsters,” Joffrey said fiercely, but he was starting to have doubts of what he once believed to be the iron truth.

“She’s in a mental institution, boy. Right after she learned of the treaty, she had a break in her sanity, attempted to kill Robert. He nearly let her, he was so heartbroken to see her reaction. He loves her more than she deserves. Or deserved. She’s doing better now. Maybe in a year or two, she’ll be ready to rejoin her family, but you won’t be there.”

Joffrey frowned. He opened his mouth to object, but Tywin cut him off before he could utter a word.

“You will be in prison. The black cells, to be precise.”

“You can’t do that! My father--”

“Your _father_ signed the decree himself. Lord Stark tried to convince him otherwise, but your father is using you to set an example.” Tywin crossed his arms over his chest. “You will not see the light of day ever again.”

“Can’t you _do_ something?!” Joffrey shrieked.

Twyin raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? I am of the opinion that he’s being too lenient on you by letting you live. I pushed him to execute you.”

_“WHAT?!”_

He glared at his grandson. “You threatened a project I have been working on for the past _seventeen_ years. Ever since I met one particularly enchanting faerie elder. One snotty, entitled _child_ nearly disassembled everything I have worked for. I do not take that lightly.”

Joffrey stared at him in shock, speechless.

“You will be escorted to the black cells tomorrow morning, along with that Trant fellow. Goodbye, Joffrey.” Tywin walked away, the clicking of his shoes against the polished concrete echoing as Joffrey felt the weight of his transgression crushing his future.

**********

He hated hospitals, having spent too much time in them as a child, but Sansa was here, lying in a hospital bed, and there was no other place he’d rather be. Though, right now, he was waiting for her family to leave her room, so he could go see her. He didn’t know if she was ready to tell the other Starks about them yet, and he’d rather wait until she did. Sandor waited in the hallway around the corner from her room, leaning his head back against the cool wall. It was the closest he dared get, even suspected he might be too close, but any further away and he wouldn’t see when they left. _At least this is a hospital that specializes in non-humans as well as humans._

Finally, he saw them. Ned, Rickon, Bran and finally Catelyn. It was a bit eerie seeing a woman who looked so much like Sansa, but was not Sansa. It was easy enough to tell the two of them apart, but it still creeped him out. Sansa was the prettier of the two, and less shrewish than her mother. Sandor had the unpleasant experience of working with Lady Catelyn on numerous occasions, and after every single one, he was grateful Sansa was not like her mother.

He slipped into her room unnoticed, and walked quietly to her side. “Sandor,” she murmured, her eyes still closed, “I was wondering when you’d get here.” She lifted her hand to him and he took it, grimacing from the lack of warmth.

“You’re cold.”

“I know. Side effect of the knockout gas, I guess. Will you warm me up?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Don’t think this bed can handle someone of my size, but…” He carefully lifted her from the bed, wrapped in her blankets. She was only attached to a monitor for her vitals, one that would cause nurses to come running if anything happened, so he made sure not to disconnect it. He sat down in the old, beat up recliner the hospital provided in the room, sitting Sansa on his lap. She made a contented sigh. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Why did it take you so long to come see me?”

“Your family was here. Didn’t know what you had told them. Last I recall, they think we hate each other.”

“Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that. I just wanted you here. I’ll tell them.” Her voice was soft, sleepy. He could tell she was fighting it.

“Sleep now, little bird. I’ll watch over you,” he whispered.

**********

Margaery sat with Bronn in the hospital waiting room. Lord and Lady Stark had given them the good news about their friends.

“I’m so glad they’re all going to be alright. If something happened to them…” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bronn said, kissing the top of her head. “They were doing their jobs though. They’re all in the line of fire like that every time they go out.”

“Yes, but this wasn’t supposed to be a job for them! This was our wedding, and they got hurt because of it.” She was crying a little, letting Bronn hold her. His aura was a calm, though darkened, blue.

“It’s because it _was_ our wedding that they put themselves on the line. They all care about us, even Sandor. You would do the same for them if it had been reversed, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly, playing with her hair.

She thought about it. If Sansa had been the one to walk down the aisle today, smiling brightly and wearing a bridal gown as she met her groom, which in Margaery’s mind was a somewhat smiling Sandor. Yes, she would die to protect that happiness. More importantly, she would kill.

“What happened to the saboteur? Joffrey Baratheon, wasn’t it?” she asked innocently.

Bronn hummed as he thought. “Yeah, son of the whack job Cersei. The council will be dealing with him. For now, he’s sitting in the jail. Why?”

“Just concerned about Myrcella and Tommen. So sweet, so very different from their brother,” she murmured. “I might want to speak to him.”

Bronn raised an eyebrow at her. “Any particular reason?”

“None I should say out loud,” she said.

“So probably the same as mine,” he said with a dark smile. She knew there was a reason she loved him so much.

**********

“Joffrey, wake up, shithead. You’ve got visitors,” Bronn said, kicking the cell door with his foot to make a loud clatter. Margaery was standing next to him, looking bored, though he knew she was anything but.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” Joffrey said. “Here to escort me to the black cells?”

“Is that to be your punishment?” Margaery asked. “Bit soft for my tastes.” She held her hand in front of her, clasping something to her breast.

“Still better than _his_ prison,” Joffrey said, gesturing his head towards Bronn. He narrowed his eyes at that. “He’s still going to be married to you. Faerie scum.”

“You’re lucky there’s bars between us,” Bronn said in a low voice. “Otherwise there might not be enough of you left for identification.”

Joffrey sneered at that and turned his back to them. Bronn held Margaery close and kissed the top of her head.

“You sure about this?” he asked her quietly. “If he ever gets out…”

“He won’t. And if he does, we’ll take care of it. Now, wait outside for me,” she replied. He nodded and walked towards the door. He heard her clear her throat and ask Joffrey, “What do you know about faeries?”

**********

“You’re monsters. You steal human children, trick their parents into giving them to you, something like that. You pretend to be friends to humans, give them wishes that eventually backfire,” he said, still not looking at her.

“Hmm...you slept through the Monster Basics classes, didn’t you?” She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t really surprised. “You’re thinking of dark elves, like Rumplestiltskin, and jinns. Dark elves are as far from faeries as humans are. Jinns...well, we’re as related as humans and chimpanzees, but still, it’s not the same thing at all. No, faeries are known for their relationship with different aspects of the world. My family is centered around nature, flowers, trees, plants as a whole, to be honest. And I specialize in plant based potions and elixirs. Like, this,” she opened her hand to show him a small vial. He turned partially, enough to see it.

“What’s that?”

“Glad you asked.” She gave him a bright smile. “This is a variation of the passion potions sold in the adult entertainment stores. Those are for a general boost to your natural passion. _This,_ on the other hand, this is very specific. On whiff of this, and you will be consumed with passion for one person and one person only.” She took out a face mask and put it on. “Just to make sure I don’t accidentally breath it in. The effects will last for about one year or so. I made it very strong, but I’ve never had a chance to test it out. Combine this with the black cells, and you’ll be in one heinous hell of a prison. Driven insane. Completely and utterly insane.”

Joffrey backed up until he ran into the opposite wall. “You wouldn’t. It’s against your code or something.”

Margaery laughed. “It’s against the coalition’s code to _kill_ you. However, you were going to try and kill me, kill Bronn, if our friends hadn’t stopped you. Our friends who are currently in the hospital. By faerie law, I’m allowed one strike against you. Our friends are allowed a strike as well, but as they are unable to take it, I’ve combined it with mine.” She unstoppered the vial and stepped up to the bars. “Don’t worry, you won’t remember who did this to you. You will just be consumed with a hellish amount of love and desire. Have fun!” she said, throwing the liquid onto him. He shrieked as it hit him and soaked into his skin.

She left him there confused, as nothing immediate happened. She had designed it that way. It would be a slow burn for Mr. Joffrey Baratheon. The jail would enter the nightly lockdown in a few minutes. By the time it was lifted in the morning, the lingering potion would be rendered ineffective and he would begin to show signs of obsession. She smiled as walked back to Bronn. _Morning should be interesting._

**********

Sansa woke slowly, enjoying the scent of cinnamon lemonade and the warmth enveloping her. Sandor hadn’t noticed yet, he was very deep into the show on the television. Her ears twitched a little as she listened. _Strike that, it’s a movie, that one by Simon Pegg, um...Hot Fuzz. The one with the oddly adorable simpleton that said “yarp” all the time. Too bad he sided with the villains in that..._

They were in his room, lying on his bed, nestled under his covers. She had been discharged with orders to rest up for the next week. He had been quiet for most of the ride back, but had held her hand the entire time and let her stay with him that night. As fun as yesterday morning had been, she rather liked this as well. She snuggled closer to him.

“Little bird is faking sleep,” he rumbled.

“Not faking. Fighting wakefulness. There’s a difference.” She buried herself in his comforter. “Don’t dutch oven me.”

He barked a laugh. “Now _that_ would send you running for the hills, and that’s the last thing I want. Get up here.” She allowed him to pull her up to eye level with him. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

She frowned. “I’m not--”

“Let me finish.” She shrugged and clamped herself to his body. She didn’t want to see his eyes right now. Not if he was about to say what she thought he was going to say. She had heard such platitudes from Harry. How perfect she was, what a good wife she would be, as if she should be placed on a pedestal instead of be by her partner’s side. She had thought Sandor was better than all that, and she didn’t want to see his eyes have that same look as Harry’s. “I’m not one for pretty words, but I listen to a lot of music. I’m going to borrow some lyrics to express it if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, and wondered if she could glamour him into forgetting her supposed perfection, without losing that essential Sandor-ness.

He cleared his throat. “Forgive my voice, it’s not really made for singing…”

 _What would I do without your smart mouth?_  
_Drawing me in, and you kicking me out_  
_You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down_  
_What's going on in that beautiful mind_  
_I'm on your magical mystery ride_  
_And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright_

 _My head's under water_  
_But I'm breathing fine_  
_You're crazy and I'm out of my mind_

 _'Cause all of me_  
_Loves all of you_  
_Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_  
_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you_  
_You're my end and my beginning_  
_Even when I lose I'm winning_  
_'Cause I give you all of me_  
_And you give me all of you, oh oh_

 _How many times do I have to tell you_  
_Even when you're crying you're beautiful too_  
_The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood_  
_You're my downfall, you're my muse_  
_My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues_  
_I can't stop singing, it's ringing, in my head for you_

 _My head's under water_  
_But I'm breathing fine_  
_You're crazy and I'm out of my mind_

 _'Cause all of me_  
_Loves all of you_  
_Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_  
_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you_  
_You're my end and my beginning_  
_Even when I lose I'm winning_  
_'Cause I give you all of me_  
_And you give me all of you, oh oh_

 _Give me all of you_  
_Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts_  
_Risking it all, though it's hard_

 _'Cause all of me_  
_Loves all of you_  
_Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_  
_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you_  
_You're my end and my beginning_  
_Even when I lose I'm winning_  
_'Cause I give you all of me_  
_And you give me all of you_

_I give you all of me  
And you give me all of you, oh oh _

His voice wasn’t great, but it was sweeter than angels singing. “Sandor...do you really mean that?” she asked in a whisper. He was about to answer when both their phones went off. It was an automated text message. Everyone in the compound was being called for a meeting.

**********

She had gone back to her room to change clothes, telling Sandor to go on ahead without her. By the time she got to the main auditorium, Bronn and a few of his teammates were already sitting with him. She wasn’t quite ready to make it public that they were together, not before she had a chance to tell her family and friends first, but she had hoped to at least sit next to him for whatever announcement was going to be made. Margaery was at the front speaking with Lady Olenna and Lord Tywin. She was radiant, the happiest Sansa had seen her in a while, which was saying something since Bronn made her so happy in general. _Like Sandor makes you happy, when he’s not being a jerk. Ha, don’t deny it. You kind of like it when he’s a jerk because you get to put him in his place._

Margaery looked up at her then and waved. Sansa waved back. Her father was walking onto the stage then, so she took the nearest available seat, next to a very somber looking fellow. He must have been new, because she didn’t remember ever seeing him before.

Her father raised his hands for attention and the crowd quieted down. “My fellow compatriots. I come before you with a very important announcement. Several, in fact. First off, the traitor who attempted to destroy the peace we have built here has been dealt with. His accomplice has also paid the price for helping him. Arys Oakheart, suspected of being an accomplice as well, has been cleared of all charges. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As an apology, he is being given a few days of paid leave before returning to active duty. Joffrey Baratheon and Meryn Trant have been escorted to the black cells. They will remain there until the council see fit to release them, if ever. If anyone would like to speak on their behalf, please make an appointment with the council.”

“Doubtful it’ll happen,” the man next to her said. He smelled of black licorice and ice. “I escorted him down there. He was speaking quietly to himself, but I heard him well enough. That Baratheon’s a lunatic. Kept going on about how he was denied his love for the fae Willas Tyrell, so everyone should pay. Figures I’d have to escort the insane one. It’s just my lot in life.”

Shae, a Lorathi succubus Sansa had freed from a slave brothel on her last mission, was sitting on the other side of the somber man. “Don’t be so dour. You have juicy gossip because you walk with the insane one. I _love_ juicy gossip. Would you more to tell me?” she asked in her temptress voice. Sansa wanted to laugh as the man’s eyes went from dullish to extreme focus. His black licorice scent had changed to a hint of cherry licorice.

Ned cleared his throat. “On to happier news, the marriage between human Bronn Blackwater and Margaery Tyrell of the Forest Fae was made legal yesterday, despite the attempts to stop it. The allegations against Mrs. Blackwater were proven false, and they had the backing of the council to proceed with their marriage. They are the fifth bispecies couple of our movement, and we should all give them a round of applause.” Ned paused for effect, waiting for the applause to die down. “As I said, they are the fifth, but they are certainly not the last. I have another marriage to announce.”

Sansa’s heart started beating quickly. Did Sandor speak with her father? Did he ask for her hand in marriage? It would so traditional, so against his nature, but if he knew it pleased her...would he have done it?

“Let us give a hearty congratulations to Lord Tywin Lannister and Lady Olenna Tyrell. They have been the heart and soul of this organization from the very start. The details of the wedding will be announced at a later date, but please know that everyone is welcome to attend,” Ned said above the thunderous clapping of the audience.

Sansa’s heart fell in disappointment, but she shook herself mentally and joined in the applause. Of course she was thrilled for Olenna, and _of course_ it was much too soon for Sandor to be thinking of marriage to her, but she knew he was the one she wanted as her mate. She would resume her aging, so she could grow old with him as humans did. They would have children, halfling vampires that they would teach to hunt monsters and protect the world, but would also not stand in the way of their dreams, if they didn’t want to follow in their parents’ footsteps.

She saw the human walking in space between the front row and the stage, heading towards Bronn as time seemed to slow again. She saw the guns he held and was out of her seat, heading towards the stocky human, running across the audience who hadn’t noticed yet. Father had noticed, was shifting as she ran. Her body was protesting, screaming at her to slow down, but the fact that the gunman was taking aim at Bronn and Margaery with one gun, and Olenna and Tywin with the other, was making her push herself. Bronn finally noticed and pushed Margaery down as the bullets began to fly. Ned was protecting Olenna and Tywin as Sansa thought nothing of flinging her body at the gunman. She ignored the pain as a few bullets tore through her skin, though she did protect her vitals. She landed in front of him, two quick kicks to his torso and he was down, two more kicks to knock away the guns. She stared down at the man, her heart racing at the near tragedy he almost caused. Boros Blount, if she remembered correctly. He worked in the security office with Joffrey and Meryn. _A third man, or was he simply taking up their cause? You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood today.  
_

“Little bird…” she heard weakly behind her. A few security personnel were already taking Blount into custody and were dragging him away, so she turned away without worry of him taking her by surprise.

“Oh gods,” she uttered and rushed to Sandor’s side. Bronn was there. Margaery had been hit, but it was minor. She’d live. Sandor, on the other hand… Sansa cradled him as best she could, putting pressure on the worst of the injuries, but it did little to help.

“Covered them from the spray,” he said, coughing up blood. His body was riddled with bullet holes, blood flowing freely, his wonderful scent filling the air at an alarming rate. _How could something so heavenly be so horrible?_ she thought to herself. “Sorry, little bird, I don’t...think I’ll be able to make it...tonight…” He coughed again and reached up to caress her cheek with his bloody hand. “Don’t cry, Sansa.”

She hadn’t realized she was until he said it. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it, but I can help you.” She drew her fangs and cut open her palm, pressing her flowing blood to his wounds. She opened up the veins on her other wrist and touched it to his lips. “Drink from me, Sandor, as much as you can. I’ll let you know if it becomes too much.”

She felt her life force begin to drain, to pour into Sandor. She was connected to him now in this way. She felt his body begin to heal, but it wasn’t enough. _More, just a little more._ His muscles, his organs, his bones regrew knit back together, forcing the bullets out of his body. _More._ She began to feel faint. _No, not yet! I can give him more!_

She could hear her mother’s voice, but it sounded so far away. _“Sansa, you have to stop or you’ll kill both of you.”_

_No...I have to save him…_

Her body felt light, floaty. She was a cloud. Fingers tightened around her shoulders, pulling her from him. Her eyelids were so heavy.

_No...Sandor…_

“We have to get them both to the ICU.” Her mother’s voice, closer now. She felt arms begin to lift her up. Snow and blue roses. Father. “Wait…” her mother said.

Sansa heard movement. Someone was kneeling besides Sandor. Maybe her mother, maybe someone else.

A hiss. “By the Seven...we have to get them to ground _now!”_

_To ground? But that means… Oh gods...what have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated to leave it on a cliffhanger, but since I'll be posting the final chapter this evening (maybe sooner), I didn't feel too terrible about it. You can probably guess what happens anyway.
> 
> Also, I have no idea about how knockout gas actually works, so for the purposes of this story, only breathing a small bit of it leaves you with paralysis. And it comes in a multi-use cannister, like an aerosol spray. ::AUTHOR'S DISCRETION:: :D
> 
> I feel like I cheated a bit using song lyrics, but they were "perfect" for the situation as Sandor is a fighter, not a lover, and his "way with words" would probably have failed him greatly in that moment. *rolls d20, it's a 1* Yeah...he totally would have failed.


	10. From Earth To Birth

Margaery stood with Bronn, holding her injured arm close to her body, as Sansa and Sandor were placed in a cocoon and lowered into a shallow grave. Lord Stark was directing the procedure while Lady Catelyn watched with a sour look on her face. Bronn had never liked her. "What's going on exactly? This wasn't in Monster Basics."

Margaery shook her head. "It's Advanced Vampire 401, if it had a name. Sansa...she was trying to heal him, but she gave him too much. He's turning. If it's not done properly, he'll become a ghoul. Sansa's never done this before, most vampires nowadays don't do it, but it still happens on occasion."

"Like now?"

"Yes, like now. They'll be there for a while. Twenty-four hours, I believe, or something like that. She'll be fighting to keep him alive, keep him sane, keep him... _HIM."_ Margaery shook her head again. "We should get going to the hospital for now. Rickon said he'd meet us there."

 **********

He was cold, but he was warming up slowly. He was wrapped in warmth, in strawberries. _How did strawberries get here?_ Sansa. _Sansa._ She had been crying. _Why crying don’t cry little bird don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry where why dark you need light must get to light Get To The Light GET TO THE LIGHT_

“Hush, Sandor. It’s not time yet.” Her voice was in his head, in his ears. She's here!

_Sansa_

“I’m here, Sandor. I’m with you”

_Where_

“We’re...we’re in a safe place. For now. Once you’re...ready, we’ll go back home.”

_homehomehome_

“Things will be different...you must prepare yourself.”

_HomeHomeHo-- different?_

“Yes. Different.”

_…_

_how different different how_

“I’m so sorry, Sandor…”

_why sorry_

“I did...something...something drastic. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until too late.”

_drastic. why do drastic_

“I was scared. I thought I was going to lose you. I...I pushed too hard...I couldn’t stop, I _wouldn’t_ stop…”

_Sansa leave? No leave. Stay please stay please stay pleasestaypleaseplease_

“Shhh, Sandor. No, I’m not leaving. Quite the opposite. You’re stuck with me. Forever. I am a part of you now, as you are a part of me.”

_…_

_Penis in you?_

Chimes tinkled as she laughed. “No, Sandor. That’s not what I meant.”

_Can penis be in you? Want to be in you._

“Maybe later. If you still want to...your mind is resetting, as your body has. Soon, you will have your thoughts back in order.”

_Always want to. Why would not want to?_

“Sandor...there’s no easy way to say this. I turned you.”

_Turned?_

“Yes...you’re my thrall. You’re a vampire now. I’m so sorry, Sandor...”

_Vampire? I vampire?_

“Yes…” Her voice was so small. “Please forgive me…”

_Forgive. Can stay with you? Always?_

“Unless you choose to leave. I won’t force you to stay with me. I’ll give you your freedom.”

_No. Stay with you. Always. Mine._

“Sandor...this isn’t a decision you should make right now. Wait until you’re fully transformed. Sleep now, my warrior.”

He remained stubborn. _Stay with you. Always. ALWAYS._

**********

Margaery pouted in her hospital bed, her energy level was beyond full and she was tapping a staccato beat onto the plastic guardrail of the bed. “Can I go yet?? It’s just a flesh wound!”

The nurse gave her an exasperated look while Bronn chuckled. “The doc’s on his way. One last look at you and he’ll say if you can be dismissed or not.”

“I believe the word is ‘discharged’, but yay! Because I feel fine, I feel super, I feel like I could run a thousand, no, five thousand miles!” Margaery said, bouncing up and down a bit.

“That’s because Rickon was kind enough to give you some of his blood. Shireen was duly impressed by his goodwill, by the way.”

“That’s super! I bet they end up having lots of babies!”

**********

Catelyn stood above the patch of earth her daughter was buried. Ned came up behind her silently. “Any signs?”

“He’s nearly turned, I’d say about another hour or less,” Catelyn said, not turning to look at her husband as she walked past him, heading towards the door. “Did you know of her affection for him?”

“I knew there was something between them, but I thought it was animosity with a grudging mutual respect.” Ned sighed heavily, following her. “What happens after?”

“He’ll need to be trained to control his urges. He won’t be able to participate in missions until I deem him ready. He must be kept separated from Sansa. I’ll have to have her release him from their bond. Otherwise, he’ll never willingly leave her.” Catelyn grimaced at the thought of her daughter bonded with the Hound.

“Is that wise?” Ned asked.

“Of course. He doesn’t belong with her to begin with. Once he has a handle on his powers, he’d want to leave anyway, explore the world and sow his wild seeds, so to speak. It’s just prudent,” Catelyn said.

“I think you’re just upset she never had even half as much interest in any of the men you introduced her to,” he said quietly.

Catelyn turned on him angrily, “That’s not true! She was getting along well with Harry, until she met _that_ brute at the ghoul nest!”

“Cat…”

“No! She and Harry would have married by now if it weren’t for _him._ Instead, she’s been miserable for the past year and now _he_ is her thrall. How much more misery must she go through before you see that he is toxic to her?!”

“I must rebuke that. He has been just as miserable as her. It’s only been in the last few days that there has been a change in both of them. I, for one, believe it is for the better. Can’t you see the way they look at each other?” he pleaded with her.

Catelyn grit her teeth, her long canines exposed. “Yes, and it’s not right. She could do so much better!”

It was Ned’s turn to become angry, “What?? How?! How is he ‘unworthy’ of Sansa? He is the best warrior in the entire coalition! Not only that, he is also the most loyal, the most dedicated...how can you possibly call him anything but ‘worthy’?”

Catelyn stepped back, startled by her husband’s reaction. “Ned…”

“I trust Sansa to make her own decisions. She decided to save him, and ended up turning him. If she doesn’t want to break her bond with him, then I will support her decision, whether you like it or not. I will also be speaking with Lord Hoster and ask him to take Sansa and Sandor in, help her with Sandor.”

“My father would never agree to that if I told him I oppose it,” Catelyn said through clenched teeth.

Ned raised an eyebrow at her. “Your father is three thousand years old and knows the importance of raising a newly turned vampire well. He would not deny my request.”

“He’s right, daughter.” An older man was walking up to them. His long, red hair was just beginning to show signs of grey. Another man walked with him, an older version of Robb Stark, Edmure Tully. “You are allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement. Just admit the truth, you don’t like the man.”

“Father!”

“My granddaughter and her thrall are more than welcome at Riverrun, Ned. You, Cat, will keep your distance until _I_ deem him ready. Honestly, forcibly trying to separate a thrall from their sire, I taught you better than that.”

Catelyn’s jaw was clenched, but she didn’t speak back. She stormed off, back to the main area of the compound.

**********

Ned returned to the plot of earth Sansa and Sandor were buried in. Arya and her mate Podrick were sitting next to it now.

“They’re waking up,” Arya said as he got close. “I can hear them beginning to stir. Is Mom still upset?”

“She wanted more for Sansa.” Ned shook his head. “I don’t understand her sometimes.”

“What’s there to not understand, Dad? Mom’s kind of a snob. I love her and all, but nothing is ever good enough for her. She doesn’t like Robb’s wife, Merry, or Pod. She barely tolerates Shireen _just_ hanging around Rickon, and once Bran brings home a nice boy, she probably won’t like him either. She’s never going to be happy with any of our choices in life or mates. She thought Sansa was her one shot at whatever in the seven hells the rest of us were missing, but Sansa is as wild as the rest of us, just better able to hide her Stark nature.” Arya blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Probably because she felt the most pressure from Mom. I’m glad she and Clegane are together. He’s probably the only guy who can look Mom in the eyes and tell her to fuck off and mind her own business.”

“Sorry…” Pod muttered.

Arya nuzzled her mate. “Don’t worry. I’m plenty able to do that on my own. Sansa’s the one that needs help with it.”

Their attention was drawn to the ground in front of them as the earth began to crack and shift, Sandor and Sansa emerging from their temporary home.

**********

**_Six Months Later_ **

She liked being carried by Sandor, being held by him, being kissed by him. Just being with Sandor, really, if she had to say it. All her life, she was the strong one. Could never let them see any weakness. _“You are a lady, Sansa, and must conduct yourself as one, even in battle,”_ her mother had always told her. No one else had to be a lady, or a lord in the case of her brothers, so why her? The first time she stepped outside that ladylike facade was when she met Sandor. With him, she could be herself, be weak, be small and yet never feel like she had no power. She could be flawed, and he didn’t care, simply treated her as another person, not human, not vampire, just a fellow being. Even when they were bickering with each other, he was the one person she felt she could be herself with. He knew her and she knew him, and that was all she could hope to ask for in a partner, a mate. She had never been so happy as the day he had refused to be granted freedom from her.

“You joined us, I’ll be damned if I break that,” he said, and that was that.

All of that being said, there were times when her thrall and mate could really get on her nerves. This was one of those times. Of all the things she knew about him, she never expected him to become a groomzilla. She gave the wedding planner an apologetic smile as he started over with the swatches yet again. Margaery was with them, helping (Sansa called it enabling) Sandor with advice. Vampires didn’t put a lot of stock in the ceremony part of a joining, or marriage. Sandor looked a little put out by that when she told him, so she had backed up a few steps and said she wouldn’t mind doing things the human way. He had gone and bought her an engagement ring with a canary diamond within the hour. She didn’t want to admit it, but she loved the ring. It reminded her of his lemonade scent. Her mother was less than thrilled about the entire thing, but her father was encouraging and that was more than enough.

She checked the time. Sandor had been cleared to rejoin the elite task force, though he was the lieutenant and Sansa was the captain, and there had been some conditions to his reinstatement. Standing up, she tapped Sandor on the shoulder. “Please excuse us for a moment, my fiance and I need to have a quick word,” she said to the frazzled planner, Milana.

“But...ivory and eggshell…” he said.

“Will be here when we return in about ten minutes,” she said soothingly to Sandor. “You’re hungry and need a snack.”

“Oh… Oh! Right.”

Margaery waved them and demanded Milana bring out “the good books” for ideas.

He followed her to the restrooms where they found a disgruntled Harry. It was his first feeding with Sandor. Sansa waited outside as a lookout, but she could easily hear everything from inside.

“Let’s just get this over with,” the human grumbled, yanking his sleeve up past his elbow, though Sandor had been known to ignore the wrists and go for the throat, since it was less messy that way. Sansa wanted to laugh when she heard the startled yelp. She knew Sandor wouldn’t hurt him. She had taught him well, with some help from her grandfather. He still didn’t have a handle on glamouring yet, but that’s what Sansa was here for. She did laugh when she heard Harry moan from pleasure.

Harry had been upset when he had been assigned as one of Sandor’s new blood donors. As a baby vamp, he needed to feed twice a day and had a rotation of donors. It would dwindle down to once a week, like Sansa, but it would be a few years before that happened. Harry was a permanent donor, so it was highly likely that he would remain Sandor’s donor once it came down to that.

So as not to put a strain on anyone, Sansa had been assigned a new donor as well. Shae had volunteered and Sansa could not have been more pleased. It turned out that the blood of a succubus in love was very pleasant indeed. She tasted of a spicy red pepper ice cream. Edd had volunteered as one of Sandor’s donors, just to impress Shae. Sandor confirmed that Edd tasted as he smelled, black cherry licorice. It was tempting to ask for a bite, but Sansa kept her fangs to herself.

Pod, Jaime, Bronn and Shireen had also volunteered. The most surprising volunteer was Ned. He told Sansa that he was more than capable of being a donor to Sandor, that he looked forward to getting to know his new goodson in this regard, though he would be insisting on Sandor feeding from his wrist. “Won’t Mother be upset about sharing you?” she had asked him.

“Cat...well, she’s being stubborn and requested a temporary donor from the program for the time being. Even if she does want me back as a donor, and doesn’t mind sharing, I’m more than capable of giving to two people. Werewolves are a hearty stock, you know.” Ned smiled as he ruffled her hair.

Sandor emerged from the restroom, looking more than a bit disturbed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“He enjoyed it.”

“I could hear that,” she said with a smile. “Some people find being drained very pleasant.”

“No, I mean...he _really_ enjoyed it.” Sandor pointed to the open door. Sansa peeked in.

“Oh, wow.” Harry was slumped over on the floor, a fantastically happy grin on his face, and he had apparently come in his pants. “Different strokes for different folks?”

Sandor frowned at her, clearly displeased by this turn of events. He didn’t have any qualms about men liking or loving other men, as long as they didn’t try it on him. He was very much straight and had eyes only for his sire.

“Ok, ok, I’ll glamour him beforehand next time. Sorry, stud. I had no idea.” She nuzzled his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach, licking a spot of blood he had missed.

“Just as well, I don’t like the idea of him creaming his pants because of you. I’m the only one who is allowed to do that,” he growled and grabbed her ass. She giggled and kissed him.

“I prefer cream pies to cream pants, but whatever floats your boat. Shall we get back to the planner? I’ll take care of Harry, you go back first.” She kissed him again, and swatted his behind as he left. “I’m partial to the eggshell, if that helps!” she called after him. Turning her attention down to the drooling mess on the floor, she entered the restroom and locked the door behind her.

She knelt beside him and grabbed Harry by the hair. “Look at me, Harry.” Her voice was ice. Harry managed to not piss himself despite how scared he now looked. Her eyes glowed blue as the glamour set in, his body growing more limp. “Sandor is _mine,_ Harry. Fantasize about him all you want on your own time, but if you dare try to approach him as anything other than a donor, or if you jizz yourself again while he’s feeding on you, I will rip your heart out of your chest and feed it to you before the life leaves your eyes. It was one thing when you were being smarmy towards me, it’s a completely different thing when it towards _my_ mate. Nod if you understand.” He nodded. “Good. Now, you are going to get up, and you are going to walk out the back door. You will head home and clean yourself up. You will not remember why you needed to clean yourself until you are in bed, late at night. You will not react the next time Sandor feeds from you, or ever again. You will save your reactions for when you get back home, is this understood?” He nodded again. “Good. Now go.” She let go of him, physically and mentally, and watched him leave in the fog of glamour.

She joined Sandor a few moments later, a smile on her face as he and Margaery argued with poor Milana about flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, tini243, I know you said you liked the getting old together part, but yeah, she turned him. They can still have children, just full vampire children, not halflings.


End file.
